


The Wolf and The Lamb

by Vinurfiy



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Warframe
Genre: Blood and Gore, Child Death, Crossover, Eventual Smut (???), F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Original Character Death(s), Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 46
Words: 162,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinurfiy/pseuds/Vinurfiy
Summary: At the tipping point of blade, the fate of the multiverse hung in the balance of one small cube held aloft in the clenched hands of a brilliant prince driven to insanity. They feared the man, then the cube, then the prince’s master, forgetting to fear the driving entity behind it all: the blade. As unfortunate as it was for the little Lamb, fate decided that new hands were required to wield to the blade’s jagged edge, regardless of her willingness or experience in the matter.





	1. Prologue: A brief synopsis of the current state of the Marvel universe

      This is the brainchild of my husband who told me it was impossible to write a somewhat reasonable fanfiction on based on two random worlds. I told him people did it all the time, and now I’m here with his favorite game at the time (he has since then moved onto hunting monsters) and a universe filled with too many characters I don’t know how to wrap my mind around them all. He also failed to state what defined ‘somewhat reasonable’ ;).

 

      MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE GAME “WARFRAME”. If you plan on playing it and would enjoy the major story arch without ruining the surprise, please play through “The Second Dream”. It should take you, at most, three days or so to get there. That, or maybe I sped through it too fast. In any case, if you don’t care just pretend this warning isn’t here.

 

      Please be aware that the timeline for this story does not exactly fit in with the Marvel cinematic universe! Not all events in the movies have happened, nor will all of them occur - partly because entering a character in the storyline at this point in time disrupts the arch. Mostly, though, it’s because I’m lazy. For a very general synopsis of what Earth / the Marvel universe looks like based on the films:

 

      - T’Challa’s father, T’Chaka, has died in a similar fashion to how he died in Captain America: Civil War. He has undergone about the same mental transformation, preparing him a gentler, kinder king like that in the movie Black Panther. The events in Black Panther have not happened yet, but will occur, and will be mentioned briefly, later on.

      - Because the schism derived from Bucky’s existence has not occurred, the Avengers are somewhat a whole unit, though they still nag and irk one another for their various reasons. Bucky may or may not enter the story. I haven’t decided how lazy I want to be.

      - Vision / Wanda are not in this story because Vision doesn’t exist yet! The events of age of Ultron have not occured since this takes place at the beginning of the first Avengers movie, and therefore Stark hasn’t had the opportunity to take the Vision Stone from Loki’s scepter.

      - Spiderman isn’t here because I don’t want to relive my highschool days.

 

      I’m sure I will be adding more onto this page later, or add similar pages for added reference in between chapters to explain some rather vague entrees or thoughts. 

 

      Please be gentle, this is the first time I’ve dared to post anything of mine for all eyes to see. That being said, I believe truth is far kinder than lies - so critiques are welcome.

 

      P.S. If you like grindy games, where you feel all powerful and have to spend hours on a wiki looking for where to farm for some god forsaken item so you can farm the thing to get you to the one object that you really, really want - do take a look at Warframe. It is a lot of fun! There’s a lot more to it than that, but if you don’t like grindy looters I wouldn’t recommend it.

 

      P.P.S. Also, how the fuck do I tag this right? There’s too many tags. Help.


	2. The Unsung Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Void Song was interwoven with all reality, full of malice and beauty it was. Only a few could listen, even fewer wield it. Neither was a good omen. And bad omens? Well. Those were dealt with swiftly.

      It was not the abrupt, ceaseless buzz tingling across the troposphere that started earlier that night that caught my attention. Nor the residual chatter that clung in the upper exosphere, like the high pitched screeching of gossiping old ladies. It was not the increased level of security that I sensed from across the globe, a tension caused by layers upon layers of encryption pricking the electronic web that I lay forever pinned to all the tighter. No. For these were all things I was accustomed to over the years. These things would come and pass. But this _thing_ was different. It moved. It intrigued me. Enough to cautiously venture out to a ball of all places.

      The affluent and the pompous had gathered, as they did so many times before. Some here were honest people, looking to change the world. Most were hyenas and vultures, waiting for the next mistake to announce the next victim. I sat, a single eye, perched quietly above the chandelier, hanging like a spider dangling from an eaves. Another pair of eyes tucked quietly within the violins, threading a beat through the holes in their hollow sound. And, yet another pair of cold eyes simply wondering the room in mild disgust and interest.

      A man, old and balding and fat, stuffed calamari uncaringly down his throat. It dripped from his fingers and down his snow white attire. I wasn’t sure what was more repulsive: the thought of eating slimy, tendrils of creatures or the way he was imbibing them. I moved past him, weaving throughout the white noise. It was everywhere, and the constant chatter of the crowd blurred it out further. I moved my attention to the violins, facing the staircase down from the foyer. At least here there was some method to the cacophony.

      It went on far later than any other gala I had spied upon, and it was far more boring as well. That, was, of course, until I saw him. He looked young, no later than his mid twenties, and moved more nimbly and with more purpose than the rest of the indulgent, loathsome lot. His attire was pristine, but it did not match the scars upon his cheeks, nor the odd staff he clenched in his hand. He bore beautiful emerald eyes, almost blocked at times by loose strands of raven black hair. My breath would have caught, were I to have any. Followed by a chill soon after if I had a spine.

      His eyes were the eyes of a killer.

      They weren’t dead, like most would assume. No. They blazed with a cold passion that became more pronounced with every footfall he took down the steps. He was here for a purpose. He hadn’t killed. Not yet. Or, at least, not had killed what he hoped to. His eyes burned too bright. His carefully controlled face contorting into a wide smile as he found who he was looking for.

      He reached out with a sudden bare hand, grasping the collar of an elderly gentleman. I recognized him, though his name meant little to me. He was well enough on his own. His company had turned into an empire thanks to his son. But his son was a far better man than him in his own right, so I did not care when the soon to be Killer plunged the staff into one of the man’s eye sockets. Not at first anyway.

      It was an odd way to attain someone’s retina. But it did not show desperation per se, only the need to hurry and be done with this part. Still, the way he sauntered onward told me he intended to stay just a bit longer than perhaps he originally intended. He enjoyed the way the people bolted like startled deer. I could see it in the way his face dropped into a dead grimace, his eyes marking them each like wolves observe for weakness in a herd.

      He began to stalk their wake, their panicked frenzy out the door. And as he moved he began to glow. I would have breathed in wonder at the sight, for it was something _new_ , something _wondrous_ . I could tell from the feel of the energy that this was no electrical illusion. This was real. This was _magic._ But the moment ended with a drowning, dismal note of dread. For as the veil dropped, it was not his gilded suit, nor his cape, nor the armor, nor the helm of golden horns, curling mischievously above his head like a mockery of a crown that I was drawn to. No.

      It was his staff.

      Or perhaps, to be more accurate, I should say what was embedded into its apex. It glowed a dull blue, like the ocean water on a pearl shore. It sang an alluring tune of supreme serenity and majesty, a tug that even from my indirect viewing made it hard not to return the sweet hum in kind. But I knew better than to sing along. Many others had done so. Many I had known, that I held dear. But they were no longer here, were they? Driven mad by the very pinnacle of perfection that they had striven so hard to attain and emulate. I knew this song. I knew this light. I knew this horrid seduction.

      Though not in its infinite entirety, a small fraction like this - housed, rather than channeled - was dangerous. I had seen many such objects before. In dreams of a memory of a life almost forgotten to me. Most of them were sealed within now, naught but lumps of ashen stone. All but six. I knew that this one resided here, somewhere on this planet. There were others as well, one tucked in away in northeastern Africa; another awoke much later to a piece of technology I barely had time to integrate into before it too awoke. I felt them all the moment I stepped out of the Nightmare, tucked away in forgotten corners of the world. I let them be, opting to never mention them, or any the Void Stones’ existences. It was easier that way, at that point in time. It gave the torturers less questions to try and pry out.

      So lost was I in my thoughts, that I had mistakenly let him reach outside before putting this to a halt. Like the marionette master I was, I summoned my puppets to move. Most I had stay behind. They were simply ill suited for the task, and thirty-four individuals to command was too many strings to pull for this job. No, the three inside as well as a few others would suffice. Six in total. Six to stealth, to watch, to shield, to distract, to waylay, to abscond.

      The three outside took their places, hidden in plain sight while the rest walked out in the open, though no Unopened eye could see them. I cringed in my head, the Huntress jolting at the sudden blast as the Killer sent a speeding cop car screeching upon its hood just feet behind himself. Like a wolf, he corralled them with his magic, perfect replicas of himself, speaking in a stentorian voice.

     “Kneel before me!”

      But the crowd, like sheep, could not understand his words. They ran still, pressed in ever more by his clones until there was no escape but through the Killer himself. Having their full attention at last, he slammed the staff down, the ringing of the Void, shrill and true, piercing across the distance as it resonated from all the staves, ricocheting off a million stars, even though I thought them just mockeries.

      “I said kneel!”

       I would have done so, my dear puppets shuddering ever so slightly from the flicker in concentration, my mind bowing from the sudden blow. It had been a long time since I had felt a Void impact, but I still remembered how to combat it - how to control it. How could I not? I could not forget.

       The crowd, however, was not as strong willed as I. They were sheep, as were most people upon this planet. Sheep that wore other sheep, that thought highly of themselves and ate other sheep, sheep that thought themselves above their own sheep. But they were still simply just sheep. So they bowed, paying homage to the Killer, the Wolf that had come suddenly into their midst. What else were sheep to do?

      And the Wolf bared his teeth with open arms, a carnal and fulfilling smile that should have chilled me to the core. Instead, all I saw in that wide, free grin and his tired eyes was relief. Even if it was fleeting, even if it was faked, in this moment… this was what he wanted most, wasn’t it? Respect, authority, an ear to listen to him.

      In the moment of his triumph, he had revealed himself and I found I could not loathe him. Not for what he wielded, for I doubt he knew its origins. Not for what he was doing, for now I could see the desperation oozing out from him. Not for why he was doing it, for many greater men had done greater horrors. No, I did not loathe him. I pitied him. For something had twisted this beautiful being into something pathetic and cruel, had torn the beating heart out of him like I had seen it been torn out of too many before me.

      And the poignant point, for me, was that his mad reach for power was not for the rule of others. No. He did not care about the others. Not as much as he most likely let on. I could see it there, in the shine of his eyes, the almost sweet cadence of his voice that cracked under the anguish in his broken heart.

      Ah, but I suppose now was not the time for my normal aptitude for solemn ponderings about the workings of a person’s heart. I would have thousands of years to contemplate it further if need be. For now, the present needed my utmost attention.

     “Is not this… simpler?” Still, my mind wandered ever so slightly. He was doing this for his own self-respect. And I dared to pity him more, for the path that he was walking now would only twist him and scar him all the more. “Is this not your natural state?” He began to walk amongst the kneeling crowd, and I sent my second dearest out to shadow in his wake. “It’s the unspoken truth of humanity: that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity.” If only he could see the irony in his words. “You were made to be ruled. In the end you will always kneel.”

      I paused, not knowing how the Wolf would react, when a sheep found the courage to stand. Though the man meant nothing to me, the defiance in his eyes did. I could feel it across the coded distance. It made me feel… happy. Hopeful. This one was not a sheep. He was a goat.

      “Not to men like you.” He spoke in a mumbling fashion, low and slurred like many old men did. But he rose his eyes to meet the Wolf’s unafraid. Perhaps it was the goat that should have been wearing the helm of horns, I mused.

      The Wolf’s stride halted, and he face the Goat with a breathy grin that barely hid his impatience. The Wolf would soon sink its teeth into his first victim. I needed to move fast, teleporting inside the small ring of space that had appeared around the Goat as the Sheep pressed further away from him. I could practically hear their mental whimpering, begging for mercy - that they were not goats, only sheep.

      “There are no men like me.” The Wolf chuckled back. But though there was lightheartedness in the sound, there was no happiness at its core.

      “There are always men like you.”

      “Look to you elder people.” The facade of command never failed as he raised his staff. Yet, closing his eyes, the Wolf’s voice cracked once more. “Let him be an example.”

      I felt it again, as he pointed it the Void Stone and it began to glow. I had to move now, before more danger would ensue.

      It must have been confusing for everyone there, to see a beast of a man now standing beside the Goat, assertively staring down the incoming beam before the Wolf was sent blasting back, the projectile absorbed, and a howling ice storm began.

      With a grimace the Wolf stood, hands still grasping the staff, as he wordlessly sized the behemoth that began plodding its way through the parting sheep. I looked, only to mentally slap myself for forgetting that they weren’t sheep bundled in wool. With flick of a wrist, more dexterous than one would assume from its size, a ball of pure ice flew into the outer edge of the storm. Like glass, an invisible dome cracked and shattered into glistening ice, the storm ending abruptly.

      Still the sheep did not move. For a moment, I forgot about the Wolf, turning and shaking my head in exasperation. I pointed to the Goat, catching his attention as I marionnetted my puppet to walk two fingers down the street and away. Slowly, the brighter ones in the crowd understood, and with trembling limbs they gathered themselves and began to flee. Some, I noted with disdain, chose to stay and watch.

      “The Soldier.” He spoke the title with disdain, as if he knew what he was dealing with. “A man out of time.”

      I let him stand fully, watching him passively as he looked the puppet over. I had become acutely aware of the hum of engine thrusters a mile or so away, my mind now hovering over a seventh entity. We would not be alone for long.

      “No mouth with which to speak?” He scorned, but his glee turned into a scowl as the stealth craft I had just noticed moments before arrived. “So… frosty.” He noted, rubbing a few flakes of melting snow between his fingertips.

      “Loki, drop the weapon and stand down.” A distinct female voice called out from the speakers in the square. The stealth ship systems immediately identified it as the Widow, and she was not alone. Wonderful. Things were becoming more complicated by the second. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come. Perhaps I shouldn’t have intervened. They did not know of my existence. I had made it that way.

      Without waiting, Frost spun and lobbed another ball of ice. Had the aircraft not dodged, the whole right wing would have been sheared off. Alas, the Widow was as agile as any spider. But no spider was fast if they could barely move their limbs. With another stomp, the snow storm resumed - this time around the Wolf called Loki and Frost.

       Now it was time for two more puppets to join the show. In a burst of light, two more teleported in, the dimension door closing just behind them to reveal two female figures. No mouths or distinct facial features, like Frost. Just hard metal and archs of energy across their frames. The one who had transported them here wore a neck brace of pure gold, coiling ever tighter around her elongated neck. With a distorted slam, her palm struck the ground and a wave of dark energy propagated outward from her. Nova, I called her. For from her came the most beautiful distortions of the time-space continuum I had ever seen.

      With another flick of her wrist, another door opened and she stepped through to safety. Frost waited patiently behind, arms clasped behind his back as I watched in amusement. Even through the gale the sound of rock music could be heard. The Iron Man had arrived. I had a feeling that something odd was going on when I found the Widow hiking all the way into the middle of nowhere to find Mr. Anger Management Problems, or when Stark dropped all his current projects from a pre-production standpoint.

      I would have arched an eyebrow, if Frost had any, to see Captain America jogging up right behind him. They were talking, but I could not hear them over the wind inside the globe and I did not care to read their lips. Instead I turned back to petrified Wolf, frozen in place mainly because he simply couldn’t move, rather than in terror. Captain America pointed inside, at Frost, the action seen by the others and forwarded mentally. Without another word to the Iron Man, the Captain went charging in. To his effort I rewarded him with a slow clap as with in passing a mere foot into the storm he froze still. To the Iron Man, I merely shook my head at his attempts to blast through the shield - opting this time for a simple, remote, manual override of his suit.

      The Wolf would have been surprised, no doubt, were he able to actually move in real time. For now, he was stuck almost to a stand still, agonizingly watching the world, and his mind, work in real time while his body executed his commands at a hellish slow rate. It would wear off in an hour. By then they would have tied him up most likely and propped up the ship so that it wouldn’t crash once it stopped falling at a millimeter per minute.

      The second new puppet stepped up, more lithe than the first female frame. More ornate. Closer to my heart - when I had one. A soft wisp of its fingers, and tendrils of smoke began to curl around it - around her - in the darkness. An illusionary, yet oh so terrifyingly real, mirage that would keep her safe even from any guards the Void Stone was imbued with. Ah, my dear Mirage. A playful trickster, home both in the daylight and the moonlight. I loved her most, just as I had in life.

      With deft, yet incomprehensibly strong fingers, she pried the staff from his hands. Panic seized his eyes, the only part of him that could reflect his inner helplessness. For a moment, I almost bowed to mock him but thought better of it. He was already in a pitiable state, no need to add insult to injury. Wrenching the Void Stone free, Mirage threw the useless staff at before the Wolf called Loki and went off into the unknown, followed swiftly by Frost.

     One by one the remaining spectres left, uncaring now what happened between the two parties. Let them bicker between themselves, squabble over _rights_ and _justice_. Such abstract concepts held no meaning to one who had never had any. Their division would ultimately prove my shield in the years to come, allowing me to hide deeper within the core of their web of spun lights.

 

      If only things had indeed gone according to plan.


	3. Wolf on a Leash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why? Why did Zayde kill his mother?”  
> “That wasn’t his mother anymore. You hear me? You see someone, you feel the Void singing in them - that isn’t them any longer... . It’s only using their body to torture their soul."  
> “But why? Why does it hate us?"  
> “I don’t know. I don’t care. If you really want to know, go ask a Light forsaken Voided.”
> 
> \- Thanos and the Void Child, approximately 2340 BC  
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________

      Things were a disaster in the few weeks to follow, for all of them. The Wolf called Loki, though I suppose I should just call him Loki, had no choice but to be imprisoned. A sentiment that Thor, upon his arrival, both understood and detested vehemently. The God of Thunder wished him to be returned to Asgard, to be watched (and hopefully rehabilitated). Still, they all understood the gravity of the situation and, like the heroes they intended to be, decided to all work together on the matter. Even if it happened to be in front of Loki’s over-designed glass cell, floating miles above land in an invisible airship.

      Did they honestly think that I would somehow miss that? I shook my metaphorical head. No of course not. They simply did not know what they were dealing with. How typical of human nature to blunder about aimlessly. It was a miracle they had completed anything worth noting. I centered my consciousness in the confined space once they had all entered the viewing area that surrounded Loki’s cell. Why even bother to cage the Wolf? He was harmless now without the Void Stone. Relatively harmless, in any case.

      Banner, Stark, and Selvig walked in first, idly chatting about work and new findings. Three of the four brightest minds in their known world. Where was Jane, I wondered? She should have been summoned as well. Her absence was disquieting. Something was afoot elsewhere on the planet, but it didn’t want to be seen just yet. My mind turned to focus on the Widow, Natasha as they all called her, and the bright eyed Hawk, Clint as they joined the others. It was obvious that they had trained each other, their muscle movements oddly similar at an intrinsic level. I would have missed it were it not for the analytical observations of their ship’s sensors. Humans: always over compensating and over building. As if complexity would attain them power.

      The Captain and Thor walked in together last. An odd pairing, but Steve was a curious one. Always asking questions, wanting to know the life that Thor had lived, what was in store for him on Earth with his extended life. Thor, I could tell, found it mildly annoying. Yet, a part of him leapt at the thought of mentoring someone into greatness.  What they both failed to see was that Steve was neither Asgardian nor lacking in greatness.

      It was odd and mildly unsettling that they had all gotten past their previous scuffles so quickly. I had hoped the fact that their distrust after Clint and Selvig turned would buy more time. But Thor, and a rather diminished Loki, had put an end to that quickly. Taking the Void Stone had inadvertently ended whatever spell the mischievous Wolf had placed upon his first victims.

      “What’s the matter? Why the sudden call?” Steve piped up when the three great minds awkwardly remained silent as they all formed a semi-circle to include the caged Wolf.

      “You’ve found something.” Loki grinned for the first time in days, teeth barred in a mixture of aggression and exhilaration.

      “Multiple somethings in fact.” Stark informed with a frown.

      “You too?” Banner seemed pleased, but Stark only shook his head. “Something else?”

      “Why don’t … you go first.” The Man of Iron seemed remarkably uncomfortable, as if he was unsure of whether or not he himself was convinced his own theories.

      “Well,” Selvig spoke up this time, “We think we can trace It.”

      “Whatever It is.” Banner added quickly.

      All my other mental processes froze. My concentration, my ever watchful eyes, now fully set upon this scene playing out. Trace it? Trace _me_ ? _Find_ me?

      “What? How? I thought you had never encountered those creatures before.” Thor’s tone was slightly accusatory.

      “We haven’t. Not in the flesh, at least.” Selvig gave a wary look to Banner for help.

      “The Tesseract gives off a unique gamma signature, as we all know from my dear friend’s work.” Some of them remained stupefied. “As _some_ of us know.” He gingerly corrected.

      “You’ve been tracking the Tesseract to track our thieves?” Natasha seemed to follow their train of thought.

      “Not… necessarily.” Banner scratched his head sheepishly before Selvig took the queue to pick up where the Hulk had left off.

      “We’ve found that the radiation, its unique song, has vanished.”

      “Well, not vanished.”

      “Diminished.”

      “Became more concentrated.”

      “Yes! That’s a good description.”

      “Wait… what?” Clint spoke up for the rest of them.

      “You see,” Selvig continued, “we’ve found another gamma signature, unique as well. I never noticed it for it was woven so closely into the Tesseract’s, and with the interference gone I can now hear it.”

      “It’s almost identical.”

      “A second Tesseract?” Thor breathed.

      “Perhaps.” Banner and the others eyed Loki in the cell guardedly.

      “Oh do continue.” Loki smirked gleefully, no doubt hoping to get his hands on _another_ Void Stone of immeasurable power.

      “We need him.” Thor petitioned for his brother fervently.

      “Oh how I have longed to hear you say that.” Loki lips curled further, but it fell short of his eyes. “But whatever for?”

      “The army of the Chitauri are coming. You know them. You know their tactics, you know their weaknesses.”

      “You want me to fight with you.” Boredom laced with disdain. The Wolf expected this much and cared little to fight the battles of others when there was nothing to be had.

      “I want you to redeem yourself.” Thor stomped up to the glass, a hair's breadth away. The cell would have dropped were it not for the fact that I overrode the screaming flags and held it locked in place. “I want you to come back home.”

      “Why? I don’t have it anymore. You’ll get it from them.” Loki hissed angrily, nodding past him to the rest of the Council.

       “I don’t care about _it_ . You can have it if you want.” Thor choked out, leaving an unguarded, barely in control Loki. I wasn’t sure if he would mean the words later, after all a Void Stone was not something to _let loose._ But he meant them now. Perhaps that was all that mattered.“But you're my _brother_ . And I know… I know I haven’t always treated you as such, but you _are_ my equal.”

       “Mjolnir would say otherwise.” Loki noted sourly, but his form had softened. Perhaps there was something here that the Wolf wished to attain after all. Thor chuckled softly, shaking his head for a moment.

       “And yet, even without it, you still best me at times. Can you not see that you are great?”

      Loki stood there, wide-eyed and stupefied at the words that had just come out of his brother’s mouth. I think that was when he began to heal: when his brother adamantly recognized him in front of others, defended and stood up for him despite the undoubted ridicule that would come after. It began to agitate some of the rotten wound that the Wolf had let fester, made it itchy and uncomfortable. Of course, it was hard to read wolves. One moment they were snuggling up against you, the next they had bitten off your hand.

      “Look, it’s heartwarming to see -”

      “I’ll help.” Loki’s murmur was barely audible, but it still cut off Stark nonetheless.

      “What a dysfunctional family we make.” Stark commented, backing off immediately. “You know -”

      “You never shut up do you?” Steve snidely interjected.

      “He does now.” Selvig noted after a moment.

      “Let’s get back on track, people.” Clint cleared his throat. “Selvig, Banner, how does a second Tesseract help us find our other one?”

      “It doesn’t.” Banner admitted.

      “Or it wouldn’t.”

      “Unless the last traces of the radiation trail left by the Tesseract weren’t headed straight for the heart of the current source.” My mind quaked, realizing my mistake. I had not thought that they would follow such a diminutive thing.

      “So they have _two_ Tesseracts?” Steve spat out incredulously.

      “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Selvig chewed on his bottom lip in thought for a moment.

      “What makes you so hesitant?” Natasha asked.

      “Why go through all the trouble to mask and hide the second Tesseract if you don’t do the same for the first one you had?”

      “Perhaps they can’t, or it’s different.” Loki pointed out the obvious.

      “Perhaps.” Selvig agreed absentmindedly.

      “But, we have a bigger problem.” Stark abruptly interrupted.

      “Like what?” Thor snapped.

      “The Tesseract wasn’t the only one that was known to you, was it Loki?” Stark raised a knowing eyebrow over to both Loki and Thor. Thor remained perplexed but Loki grimaced in acknowledgement.

      “There are six.” He quietly breathed.

      How did he know there were six remaining? So specific, so assured. He wasn’t wrong either.

      “Well, I know where two others are.” The rest of the room froze, then began to clamor in excitement until Stark sliced through their budding joy. “Or, I did. Our thief seemed to know as well, and got to them before I even had thought to check on them.”

      “What happened?” Natasha’s voice was soft, but there was no denying the sharp edge of fear in it.

      “It turns out, two were imbedded into Loki’s staff. Loki had _two_ stones. Now our thief has them both.”

      “Wonderful.” Steve muttered to himself.

      “The one that was originally mine?” Loki growled, teeth snapping menacingly. He looked about ready to smash through the glass if he wouldn’t fall to his death as a consequence. I’m not sure if I were there, who he would have murdered first: my puppet or Stark. It was clear it was of at least sentimental value to him. A pity that it was long gone. He would never grasp it in his eager claws again.

      “Yeah. Only, it’s not there anymore.”

      “What do you mean?” Loki’s face soured.

      “It’s not there.” Stark reiterated irritatedly. “His ears work, right?” Stark bit at Thor before continuing. “It was housed in one of the top security labs - still in your staff I should add. I tried to take it out myself, but nothing I tried worked and then one day it just… disappeared.”

      “ _Disappeared_?” Steve immediately stepped forward, wary of magical jargon.

      “I checked the security footage, interrogated the guards on shift.” Stark ruffled his hair anxiously. “No one was seen entering that room, the cameras saw nothing. _Literally_ , not figuratively. It was there in one frame and gone in the next.”

      “What are you saying?” Clint scoffed. “That our thief can what, teleport objects without warning. That -”

      “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Stark snapped.

      “That’s not possible.” Banner shook, disturbed greatly at this. “Rerouting the camera footage or, or -”

      “Banner, it’s _gone_. Unless you have a sound explanation why the guards posted around a glass walled room didn’t see anything happen, we have to prepare for the worst.” Stark declared.

      “Okay, so whatever took the Tesseract has now taken Loki’s _other_ stone as well.” Selvig tried to calmly summarize the events. “You wouldn’t happen to have a third, would you?” Selvig muttered derisively. Loki’s lips fell into a tight line of strained patience.

      “And teleported into, or something out of, an invisible airship flying thousands of miles above the ground - where no one knows where it is.” Steve took a few steps back to pace to alleviate some of his pent up anxiety. “How is that even possible?”

      “That’s entering the realm of gods… .” Clint trailed off, regarding both Thor and Loki with a mixture of distrust and annoyance.

      “Don’t look at us.” Thor scoffed, Loki quickly continuing to explain what his dolt of a brother had forgotten to.

      “There are no gods capable of such a thing, not now nor in ages past. Nor do we know of the technology capable of true teleportation - not the kind you are speaking of. You would have readings of an energy surge from both the target and return locations, and I’m assuming from your defeated glare, Tin Man, that there was none.”

      “Okay, let’s just simplify this.” Natasha urged with a steadying breath. “Obviously our mark,” Oh? I was a _mark_ now, to her? “, wanted the stone and knew where it was. They knew where both of them were. But why now? Why go after them when Loki came?”

      All eyes in the room turned toward the suddenly sheepish Wolf.

      “Loki.” Thor warned softly.

      “Brother, I was doing what I thought best after exile -” Loki hissed back quietly.

      “Loki.” Thor’s voice was now a threat.

      “I got in over my head!” Loki admitted. “I’m still… in over my head.”

      “Okay, Reindeer Games. Spit it out.” Stark grumbled, arms crossed. Pfft. I had to admit, that was a bit better than Goat Man.

      “It’s _Loki_ , mortal.” The Wolf spat back before returning his attention primarily to his brother, though he still spoke to the rest of the room. “I cannot say much. I am… not permitted.” Loki tsked, jaw tightening. If I didn’t know better, and I did, I’d say he was in a small amount of pain. Interesting. A Void Link? Was that even possible without the Stone in his possession? I would have to follow the trail back through the Endless Dark. “There is… another,” he choked upon the word, as if the making of the sound had nearly killed him “, looking for them. All of them.”

      “He sent you here?” Thor continued, Loki only nodding as he rested against the glass. This was no mere Void Link stretched through the fabric of reality through a Stone, I shuddered in the confines of my mind. This was tethered directly to him, twisting the form of his soul. Was this what had turned something so beautiful, so hideous? “Brother, you do not look well.”

      “What gave you that inkling?” Loki grit through his teeth, before steeling himself and standing straight again.

      “Loki -”

      “A little pain is all, brother.” It was a blatant lie, though it might not show to them.

      Void Links were not meant to transmit pain, not across great distances. Nor were they designed to be of long term use. Persistent links caused Void Scars, and Void Scars led to insanity, the addition of uncontrollable, devastating powers, and ultimately transformation into one of the Voided. I did not know if the supposed gods were affected the same, but all the more reason to pity the Wolf’s fate. No one deserved to be Voided.

      “So is our thief working with or against your… benefactor?” Natasha attempted to keep the group on track.

      “Against, most likely. If they even know of my ‘benefactor’.” The Wolf called Loki seemed to relax slightly at the few breaths of painless air. “I would have been told if there was to be… help.”

      “I see.” Banner seemed less than pleased. “Anything else you’d like to tell us?”

      “Banner, Loki is trying to help us.” Thor tried to instill the notion of a noble Loki, but even I doubted that he existed beyond the confines of Thor’s mind. Once, perhaps. And maybe again one day. But not in this moment. There was too much malice wrapped around his heart, warping his tongue and thoughts until even he believed the wretched creature he had become.

      “Is he? Or is he using us?” Banner bellowed, setting everyone on edge. The thought of a raging Hulk aboard a floating tin cage of metal, thousands of feet in the air, did not sit well with any of them. Even the supposed gods paled.

      "Doctor Banner, please calm down.” Clint demanded, Banner only rolling his eyes at the overprotective Hawk.

      “Oh I am indeed using you.” The Wolf called Loki sneered, pearly whites revealed under the curl of red. “Just as you are using me. I see no difference.”

      “See what I mean?” Banner insisted with an angry motion towards the cage.

      “Loki, enough. You know better than to antagonize Banner.”

      “Banner has a point though.” Steve pivoted mid step to face Loki’s cell. “How do we know that when we find them and retrieve the Stones you won’t just stab us all in the back and run off with them?”

      “Stabbing you _all_ in the back would be too much work.” Loki assured with a smirk before he turned serious. “You don’t. Just as I don’t know you won’t try and execute me once my usefulness is over.”

      “I would do everything in my power to stop them, brother.” Thor promised lowly, placing himself guardedly between his brother and the rest of the imposing group. Once again, Loki’s mask cracked slightly and the Wolf found that he did indeed enjoy brotherhood and friendship, even if it was for the briefest of moments.

      “We have no choice. Loki understands these Stones better than any of us here.” Natasha huffed in annoyance.

      “That doesn’t mean I trust him.” Banner spat, returning to a timid Selvig’s side who immediately aimed to end this meeting and return to a semblance of normality.

      “So they have two of the six now.”

      “Actually… .” Steve looked up at Stark’s nervous tone of voice. Before Steve could express his growing frustration, the door to the room slid open and in stepped a man in a bright, red cape with a collar high enough to frame the top of his dirty blonde hair. His mustache and goatee were a little less kept than the last time I saw him, and his mouth was turned into a decided frown.

      “Doctor Stephan! You made it!” Stark cried out, arms wide.

       “Yes. I made do with normal conventions of travel. Who knew helicoptering in onto an invisible airship would be so nerve wracking.” He huffed, fingering the empty slot in his necklace. “It appears that your thief now has three of the stones. They have my Time Stone.”

      “So there’s no doubt then.” Clint sighed wearily.

      “They’re after all the Stones as well.” Thor agreed.

      “The only pertinent question now,” Loki continued after a long silence had ensued, his fingertips rubbing his temple gingerly “, is: can you track them?”

      “Will you help us?” Selvig countered.

      “It’s a bit hard to, behind glass.” Loki tapped it pointedly.

      “Clint.”

      “I’ll… go let him out.” He begrudgingly acquiesced to Natasha’s simple request. “Are you sure?”

      “Of course not. What choice do we have?” Clint eyed the Wolf behind the glass warily, who winked back with a cheshire grin.

      Several minutes later, after he had entered in numerous passwords and assured Nick Fury that this was indeed the correct course of action for now, the glass to the cell slid open silently.

      Instantly Loki stepped across the small boundary, taking a breath of relief to be on relatively stable ground. I honestly didn’t think the thought of plummeting was bad, but I remembered liking the feeling of free falling.

      With a nervous chuckle he clasped his hands, all eyes upon him waiting for his next move.

      “Well? What are we standing around for? I thought you needed my help.”


	4. The Ties That Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They bore childlike excitement for me. I, now matured, and attaining what had taken them centuries. A party was held, as grand an affair as we could afford for our stature. I danced with limbs I still felt unsure of, smiled stretching skin that was unworn, masking my troubles for another day. I had completed the meld perfectly. But instead of a vast swath of tumultuous emotions, I found only darkness awaiting me in his mind.
> 
> Entry logged approximately 2326 BC  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

      The next week had been tense for all of them, but it was easing slightly. The Wolf remained locked in his cage for the most part, only allowed out at the request of one of the Doctors. Thor tried his best, but here his reach was short. Loki was lucky to get more than a hour of time actively roaming the ship, always within leashing distance of Thor. Still, he had not done much other than what he had promised.

      He was more patient than I anticipated, given the circumstances. Banner and Selvig did not understand the governing laws behind his powers or innate sense of the Void (neither did I), and Stephan did not have a complete grasp of quantum physics. Tediously, Loki bridged the gap. There were times when tensions rose. Banner snapped and Selvig would whimper. Stephan would startle, and the Wolf would pale. Sometimes, if not most of the times, the Wolf was the instigator, poking and prodding, to see what ice was thick enough to stand upon.

      Still, I found that despite his usefulness he remained a prisoner. Was it their distrust for him? Perhaps it was how powerful he was on his own? Was it the way he twisted their words and wormed himself into their minds? I could not understand the fear. Then again, I hardly understood fear itself to begin with. Perhaps I was looking at this all wrong. Perhaps they feared him because he was the Wolf among Sheep, sniffing out his prize morsel. Either way, _I_ did not fear him.

      But that was why I was here, wasn’t I?

      It had been difficult to get aboard. They primarily fueled mid-flight, but every now and then had to land for routine maintenance and resupply. The Helicarrier had a set weight too, with each additional load recorded precisely, not just to the kilo but to the exact moment it entered aboard. Fury had been paranoid ever since his discovery of his peers true identity and would not play the fool so easily once more. Fudging the numbers wasn’t hard. It was puppeteering them aboard without being seen, betwixt the mayhem of the ant like laborers hurrying to and fro, and _then_ nudging the numbers just right. It didn’t help that my main unit, the noblest of healers and guardians, could not, in fact, turn invisible. Worse yet, Trinity was slow in comparison to the others.

      Hulk, or Thor, or the Iron Man, or even Captain America, could catch up to her with some amount of effort. That, however, was why my huntress was here. She had been there during the initial _confrontation_ , dare I call it that, with the Wolf. She was flighty, and nervous, preferring to be unseen and unheard at all times. Ivara, I called her. Even now, at the whisper of the thought, she responded, shooting an arrow entwined with the Void to where Trinity was, hidden in plain sight. With thoughtless reflex, Trinity caught the arrow, the power transferring to her and the arrow vanishing to dust. And so she remained hidden with Ivara. I wondered what is was like for the rest of them, scurrying in between. A gust of wind? Or, perhaps, nothing at all?

     Ivara hated waiting. I could feel the anxiousness flooding her veins even as Trinity and I soothed them. I knew we only had so long before they closed the loading bay. They had to be out of here before then. If they caught them on board, who knew what the humans would do. _No_ . Who knew what _I_ would do. I wouldn’t let them hurt my puppets. They were too dear to me.

      Oh so carefully they crept further in. Past the cafeteria and the bunks, past the elevator - far too dangerous to take - and up the stairs. It was painstakingly slow, each door opened only when no eye was set upon it, and the camera footage instantly replaced. As they neared the holding cell, the people dissipated like the slow parting of fog. One moment, they were there, and the next, you wondered where they had evaporated off to. The silence was unnerving, even to one who could not hear. The tell-tale tap of metal upon metal was barely distinct in the vibrations within the floor, but it was all there was other than the hum of electricity in the walls.

      With one last check to make sure the room was unoccupied, other than the Wolf, I opened the door. The Wolf bolted upright in apparent joy, the thought of temporary freedom, even if to bicker for a brief while with the Doctors, an enjoyable prospect when contrasted to the tone-deafening silence. His face fell into a thoughtful frown as the door closed, the small, bright red lights upon the handles indicating that it, and all other entrances to the room, were locked. Not that the humans in the control room would notice. _All systems nominal._

     The Wolf noticed the small change, however, keen eyes now scanning the room intently.

     “So you came.” His voice rang out with a grin. Ivara, halted instinctually.

      He knew that I would come? Curiosity took the better of me, and I dropped the veil of illusion as I approached. Ever sensor, ever metallic eye, sharp and cold, was set upon him, trying to bore into his depths. What was he, he that guessed my coming?

      “What _are_ you?” He recoiled at the sight and I flinched, sightless gaze sent down inspecting the perfectly molded metal traced in places with gold, sensing the tingling of the Void within, feeling the radiation of the glimmer of light that stretched out the outline of a lone circle upon a usually formless face. At least, Ivara had a hood. “Tch. Can’t speak either? How crude.”

 _I don’t enjoy speaking to those lesser than me._ I hastily signed, but it was clearly lost on him.

      “Are those motions supposed to mean something?” His gaze drifted over Ivara’s shoulder, his mouth drawing into a thin line. “ _Two_ of you.” Ivara shifted, slipping back into the veil as Trinity took her place.

      They stood eye to eye, the Wolf and Trinity - where it that Trinity had any eyes of which to speak of. Her form was featureless and smooth, small glints of energy framing the underedge of the upper surface every now and then.

      “Ogling is rude.” He lightly jested, but there was an edge to his tone. I would have reminded him that he was the one staring, not I, were he capable of understanding me. He raised his brow, arms splayed agitatedly at his hips. Whatever was going to happen, he did not wish to wait.

      At his silent bidding, I opened the cage.

      His emerald eyes dropped to watch the glass disappear into to his left, wide in wonder, before they dashed suddenly to Trinity’s face.

      “What are you doing?” I took a step back, giving him room to stand upon the walkway that led to his cell, and beckoned. “Hm.” He gave a tight smile with an even smaller laugh. “No, I think not.” My hand dropped, as the immediate blar of the motors beneath the cell came to life. The Wolf paled. With an impatient stamp of a foot and an angry finger at the ground before me I demanded that he step forward. “And if I don’t?” The cell buckled as one of the holdings slipped. “Right.” He hastily removed himself from his cage, cringing as it plummeted behind him. “You’re going to explain that to them, right?”

      Uncaring of his little games, I snatched his wrist and yanked. He tumbled over Trinity, twisting in the air just in time to catch himself upon solid ground.

      “That was rude.” He hissed, brushing himself off. “Ah -”

      My focus drifted as Trinity rushed to his side, slamming her palm, albeit gently, against his forehead. I felt him resist, fingers curling uselessly against hard metal as I grasped his head and shoved. Not physically, for Trinity’s form had gone rigid. Nothing would pry him from her grip now.

      “N-no.” The Wolf called Loki choked. It was pointless. There was no one to hear him but me. We were alone. “T-Thor -” He wheezed.

 _The Wolf calls for his brother._ The sound of my own voice, albeit heard vicariously, was foreign to me. Like a drop of water into oblivion, rippling ever outward. _My voice_. It echoed forever, yet it was hardly audible amidst the sea of nothing that stretched ever outward.

      “Who are you?” A small blur, growing larger with each passing moment.

 _He is here._  I startled, much like before. The brightness of his mind, his soul, such a stark contrast to the _nothing_ , pricked at my blurring vision until it bled…. Black, and... green, and… the... tan of skin. _Is that… is that_ **_color_ **?

      “Who is here?” I trembled at the sound. I _felt_ the sound, resonating deep within my core as it pierced my ears within his mind.

 ** _You_** _are here, Wolf called Loki._ _I am impressed. The humans could not consciously interact during a mind meld._ I drifted closer, twirling about him before settling within his sight. It eased him to be able to keep his metaphorical eyes upon me.

 _“_ A mind - what?” Loki took a step back, an exotic motion within the realm of thought. Steps were pointless when one did not have a form, yet he still went through the motions. Was it habitual, or was it a form of comfort? “So this is my mind.” He grimaced, turning to survey the nothingness that went on for all eternity. “Rather boring, now that I see it.”

 _No, this is only in between. There is nothing here. If you want to know your own mind, you will have to find it yourself._ I amusedly assured him.

      “Who are you?” He reiterated, as stern as the first but without the hint of trepidation. “And why do you address me as ‘Wolf’?”

_Does it matter?_

      “I suppose not.” He snidely agreed, and across the distance between us I could feel the smugness oozing from him. “We will find you, no matter who you are. All of you.”

      I chuckled, the sound bubbling throughout the space before dying down.

_Oh dear Wolf._

      “I am endearing, am I?”

 _There is only_ **_one_ ** _of me._ Surprise, replaced by what I could only describe as sadistic hunger followed the statement.

      “All the easier to hunt you down then.”

_And you wonder why I called you a Wolf._

      He grinned ferally, and I laughed once more.

      “Why do you laugh? Do you find it humorous, to be hunted?” He snarled suddenly.

 _Of course._ I responded evenly, but his sudden shift in demeanor was unsettling. Even here, where he had no power other than his twisting words and his emotions, he dared to find a crack into my own mind, to pull this into his favor.

      “What about your friends?” He sibilated. “You send them into danger in your stead, only daring to treat in _this._ ” He swept his arms around.  “Only a coward would find the thought amusing.”

 _You seek to incite me_. I noted dully.

      “You might not fear pain, but your friends in the tin suits might.” He growled abrasively. “And _oh_ , they will know **_pain_ ** **.** ”

 _I believe you are misinterpreting the situation._ I smiled pleasantly, calming myself in the deeper recesses of my own mind.

      “Oh, do tell me how I am wrong. I love being told how I’m wrong.”

 _You are not_ **_wrong_ ** _, per se._ I paused, mulling over his words. _I_ **_am_ ** _a coward. Or I was. I suppose that if I still was, I would not be here. But -_ I hastily cut in before he could scathingly spit more nonsense about my puppets - _you are mistaken with regard to my puppets._

      “Oh.” He chuckled darkly. “Puppets. This will be good. Can they hear you?”

 _Of course not._ _They aren’t alive. They aren’t_ ** _suits_** _._

      His anger dropped in puzzlement as he began to piece together the situation.

      “Are you real?” He dubiously asked.

_Of course I am real._

      “Are you human? Or did they make you? Are you like an advanced… what did Stark call his little pet -”

_AI?_

      “Yes.” He drew the word out in a pleased gasp.

 _I am neither._ My words curled his upturning lips down. _The Wolf doesn’t know what to think._

      “So they are all you?”

 _They are all extensions of my will, manifested in forms capable of handling a range of desirable tasks._ _I suppose, most things are now._ I paused, gliding freely as my own thoughts did. Without a sound he followed. _There was a time when the world was darker, when I needed their light to see it. Now, the light is so blinding I find it hard to block out. One day, I won’t be able to. One day, I shall die the deathless death._

      “I don’t understand.”

 _My apologies, I did not mean to ramble._ I stilled, spinning to face him. _That is not why I came._

      “Why did you come?”

 _Because you have a semi-permeable meld, married with a Void Link_.

      “Um, what?”

 _Your link with, how did the Widow put it,... your_ **_benefactor_ ** _._

      His approach halted immediately, and the once inconspicuous air became heavy and laden with terror and distrust.

      “What about it?” He snipped protectively.

_If you are lucky, you will die from it. Has your Master told you this?_

      “What?”

_If you aren’t you will begin to scar in the most hideous of ways. Do you know what the Void does to those it rejects, those it deigns to neither embrace nor consume?_

       “What does this _Void_ have to do with anything?”

 _It turns them into puppets._ I drew out each syllable. A moment of stillness and then -

      “What?” He turned to point, but realized that we were still nowhere. “Then your _puppets_ -”

 _Are those who remain._ I conceded. _The rest turned into the Voided._ I shuddered at utterance of the word. _It is more merciful to be a puppet._

      “What is a Voided?” His whisper was barely audible. I would have asked him to repeat it, where it not that I felt his fearful thought cross the gap between us.

 _Imagine being trapped in your body, watching you consume everything you ever loved or cared about. Then, escalate that a thousand fold. The Voided are those the Void punishes for reaching too far. The Void is far crueler than any reality that you have ever known, far more monstrous than your worst nightmares. It knows those it touches intimately. It makes the notion of pain and agony one of joy and longing, and that which it inflicts will replay for you each moment of your prolonged life. And it will keep you alive._ I gravely assured him. _As long as it can. It will revel in your suffering. It will tear down everything you built up, consume it piece by piece. Not in a figurative sense. You will consume it. The Void is hungry. It is never satiated._

      “That’s insane. _You_ are insan -”

 _It will start with your brother. You would hunt those he loved, bring them before him, and break him. You would rape, you would torture, you would eat the flesh of his mortal. Then, you would do the same to him._ I flooded the space between with Thor’s desperate cries, the endless possibilities of the torturous future that awaited the Wolf should he continue down this path with the Link in place. Jane's death, prolonged and excruciating; the cannibalism, so that Thor would break; becoming the monster the Wolf could only imagine himself being.

       “Stop.”

_Then your mother._

      “I said stop!” He screamed, shattering at the first whimpering gasp, fists flying through my ghostly form.

_Your Master has sentenced you to a fate worse than death._

      “Is that why your here? To tell me this? To gloat?” He choked.

 _No. I am here for two reasons. To follow the thread back to your Master and then cut it._ My oath seemed to pacify his growing frenzy, and he hushed as I neared again, this time enveloping his mental form.

      “Why are you doing this?” He questioned hoarsely.

 _Shh._ I quieted him. _I must concentrate, or he will notice._

      I focused, probing for the single strand that stretched out of him that was not his. It was not hard to find. Whoever had placed this was powerful, but inexperienced. It was a knot of woven quicksilver and shadow, but it was wound like a toddler had tied it. Perhaps they did not even know what they had done themselves. Step by step I followed it back to its source, until at last I stood before a snoozing giant upon his throne of stone.

      I knew this face. I knew these features. They were distorted and aged, enlarged, turned into the cold hard rock that he had left fester in his core. Grooves had cracked, skin had flaked, and wrinkles chipped away at the vestiges that remained of his form.

      But his eyes. His eyes were _hers._

      I let go of the thread, numb and confused, stumbling back into the comforting confines of _nowhere_.

      “What is it? What has happened?” Loki’s voice was distant and hazy, as if he were speaking through a pool of water.

 _He has mother’s eyes._ The revolting revelation hit hard.

      “What?”

 _Did he ever tell you his name, Wolf?_ I murmured, almost too afraid to say it myself.

      “He told m-”

 _It’s Thanos._ I barged onward, uncaring. _He is… he_ **_was_ ** _my brother. Now he is Voided._


	5. Solutide of the Sinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He told me they went Voided. He told me that the Void clawed its way into their minds, until there was nothing left but malice and gluttony. Those that were left had fought and survived. Fought to protect me, and survived so that I might bring them out of the depths of hell itself. I loved him. So I nodded in quiet agreement. My words were too simple to be heard. I would train until I was spent or the Void rejected me to repay the debt and grant them liberty. I loved him. So I told myself I understood.
> 
> I loved a liar.
> 
> \- Entry logged approximately 2325 BC
> 
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        I pulled away from him, _Trinity_ pulled away from him. I was too numb inside to analyze the situation. Thanos was… Thanos was alive. They said that all lifeforms aboard were gone. Nonexistent. The Voided were _dead_ . Those who didn’t make it out were _dead_ , or worse off, trapped, like me. Yet, I saw him across the stars. He lived. But, no. He didn’t, did he? Thanos was gone. Thanos was a used name for a creature crueler than Death.

        I had no breath with which to scream, no eyes with which to cry, yet I felt like I was drowning all the same, pulled under by the weight of the reality that I had one last daunting task to do. I couldn’t even put it into words. To do so would be to finalize it. Even now, as I mourned, as I raged, part of me, some sick Voided part of me, was _happy_ . He was _alive_. I wasn’t alone under countless, empty stars.

        But that was an illusion.

        I killed the delusional thought before it had a chance to take root. I _was_ , I **_am_ ** , alone. That hideous, mutated _thing_ upon a upheaved throne was nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing. It was Voided, and it would treat me as such. Worse, in fact. After all, I was someone who he once cared for, just like mother. Even more so, perhaps. And he had taken mother’s eyes. Her beautiful, beautiful eyes. Perhaps there was some definition of agony that I had not explored just yet.

        Both my puppet’s heads snapped up at the blare of an alarm, and I shoved down the useless emotional mess that clouded my mind. I had lost my concentration, and the in the span of a minute, their system had rebooted and revealed that the cage had dropped. In its wake was an empty hole to the shallow bay at which we were docked and two female metal figures towering above a writhing Loki.

        Shit. Loki.

        Once again Trinity was at his side, Ivara now coming to her aid when he proved too strong to pin down as he cried out in agony. In my confusion I had left him in the dark, let him get yanked back into the confines of his mind, no guidance or path to ease his journey. His forehead was blistered, flesh melting and peeling like skin on a burst sausage. The normal tinted ivory skin had gone white, in places darkening to a sheen of light blue, like the tip of an iceberg.

        He panted, eyes dilated as he forced them open to snarl at me like a Wolf that had been caught in a trap. But this was no trap. Not intentionally. Not for him. He was not meant to get hurt. Not like this. Despite his growing fatigue, the mental exhaustion that he was sure to be enduring, he still kept himself awake, desperate to fight off Ivara. I wanted to beg him to stop. With every kick and every shout he grew weaker and his fear stronger.

_I won’t hurt you!_

       But it didn’t matter how much I yelled at him silently. He would never hear it. Instead, I bore his curses with pride, each lewd string of words a new sting to remind me that this was my responsibility. Inside, however, it was like being torn asunder. I was pulled a thousand different directions, each to a different memory or image that was not my own. His mind was scattered, the pieces adrift in the nowhere between us.

       It felt like an eternity in the once emptiness, now dotted with little motes of memory. I wondered as I gathered them all, if that was what the night sky was actually like. One by one I returned them, careful not to look for even I valued the privacy of others. It took the enjoyment out of guessing motives and backgrounds, and honestly there were simply things that I did not wish to see. Pains that ran too deep, akin to my own.

       When I came to, the room had quieted. His labored breathing evening as the pain ebbed and the scar within his mind sealed tight. Outside the door, still locked, the steady whirring of alarms continued, feet stomping to surround the only remaining barrier between my puppets and their semblance of an army.

       “Oh.” He breathed, sweat drenching his hair and pooling at the base of his neck. “That’s… better.”

        He looked to still be in rough shape, but the worst of the storm was weathered. He would, at most, suffer an annoyingly throbbing headache for the rest of the day - but even the humans had medicine for that now. His forehead, in time, would heal. He was a god. Supposedly, anyways. Perhaps it wouldn’t even scar.

        “Step away!” The belligerent cry from behind the door was muffled, but somewhat familiar. It was difficult, trying to reconcile what my puppets sensed and what the ship had told me before. Everything felt distorted, and my field of vision was nowhere near the comfortable scope that I had defined as ‘safety’. The entirety of the Helicarrier was dark to me at the moment. It seems the reboot had somehow cleared my initial presence.

        A heavy thud followed by the crackle of electricity dented a hole the size of a football in the three inch steel door.

        “That would be my brother.” Loki managed half a smirk with his murmur before using the rest of his strength to raise his voice. “T-Thor!”

        “Loki!”

        “Help!”

        Really? I had been trying to at least allude to a semblance of neutrality with this act. He did not just - no, he did. Of course he did. What should I have expected? This wasn’t just a dimwitted, feral Wolf. This was Loki, the God of Mischief. I suppose it was a bit of instant karma for my slip up at his expense. Still, I looked down upon him from both viewpoints, arms upon both their hips. Could he tell I was scornful? I hoped so. It was quite rude.

        Ivara and Trinity rushed over to the only other option out: the hole the cage had left. They stumbled at the edge, timid as I was. Metal did not float, nor did electric current flow in a controlled fashion when surrounded by water - and that what was laid below. As shallow as it was, it was a sure death if they entered it as they were now. I should have prepared for this better. Then again nothing could have steeled me against what I had seen in his mind.

        No. I have to focus on _this_ right now.

        Their hands clenched. There was no other way to go about this but to try and cheat death. At the very least, their loss was better than their experimentation at the hands of the humans should they get caught. Carefully, they let themselves curl around the edge, their incredible strength holding them up until at last they were horizontal to the bottom of the ship. Then, like spiders they began to crawl. Not an agile or elegant crawl, but a harsh, striking movement with each limb embedding itself into the undercarriage of the Helicarrier for a grip.

        Outside, I had more eyes. I had not inspected our landing location previously. I thought it relatively unimportant. We were in Wakanda, it appeared. I balked. The only way they would be permitted into the xenophobic country was by order of their king. Perhaps I should have taken more notes. I had succumb to the age old folly of flippancy. In any case, it was too late now. I needed options, whatever I could grab.

        There were some loaders, but they were far too slow and cumbersome. A small boat was more suicidal than the loaders. But… there! An empty, first class airship. What was that doing here? I quickly inserted myself, pulling it off the Wakandan grid as inconspicuously as I could. It wasn’t hard, considering that this was... T’Challa’s ship. I was certainly doing well for myself today. Already, I was the primary target for the majority of the strongest beings that held some form of power on this planet. Now, at least three of them would have personal vendettas against me. Wonderful.

        My attention snapped back to Trinity and Ivara as I started the engines, preparing to lift off, only find myself worming further into the system to bypass its faults and optimize everything for one desperate launch. The humans were firing upon them. They ignored the spray at first, edging forward all the more despite working their way into the oncoming fire. Bullets, for the most part, were relatively harmless. Their shields were holding up for now, but the Hawk was out there. He wasn’t aiming for them. He was smarter than that. He had his sights set upon their footholds.

        Little by little, their grips slipped. Each new haphazardly indented hole weakened by the shredding of a single, infuriating arrow. A chill seized my mind: they were going to fall. I was going to lose them. I - _no!_ I snarled in defiance, wrenching myself out of the panicked thoughts of failure. I would not give in so easily. Trinity slipped, and without thinking Ivara let go a hand to catch her leg. I dangled in two bodies, precariously over the life-giving body of liquid metal-death. I waited. Felt the arrow coming, it’s piercing whistle hurtling far ahead of it. Then, let go.

        For a moment, all there was, was the rushing of wind. There was something serene about the tug, the shrill shriek. If they weren’t so weighted down, I’d like to think that the wind would have whisked them off to some better place. Perhaps one where they were no longer puppets, but friends; some eden the Void had not touched. Then the moment past, and they righted themselves, latching onto the blur of the stolen airship.

        It dipped under their weight, but continued its charge over the lake. With its current fuel reserves I would have to drop them off quickly, but at the very least we were making good time. It was comforting to have Stark’s suit on lockdown, as well as the ignitions for any fighters that might just be able to outpace us. For now, no one would follow. Thor was most likely tending to the wounded Loki, and Banner… well, I highly doubted that T’Challa would allow even the thought of loosing the Hulk within Wakanda’s borders.

        I supposed I was lucky that they were not here just to resupply. I had taken much longer than the allotted time window. If things had gone the way they had over the middle of Lake Turkana, or worse yet, over the ocean, I dared not think what might have happened. Still, it was unnerving to have them so close to my beating, pulsing heart.

        Explorers, archaeologists - call them what you will - had come before and failed to find it. Lead by the promise of riches and treasures, a utopia for humanity under the protection of great and noble warriors. The Wakandan’s had kept them out for the most part, and those who managed to squeeze between the border security were killed on sight. It was a brutal practice, but it had kept their civilization safe. I just happened to benefit from it as well.

        I wondered, as Trinity and Ivara dropped off onto the shoreline and I sent T’Challa’s ship home (perhaps he would be forgiving), how many Wakandans actually knew of my heart. In a sense, they all knew of it. The Valley was the core of nearly every myth and legend of their ancient culture. The Orisha, they called me - all of me. I was not, of course. But what else were they to call the mysterious, seemingly all knowing, incredibly powerful nigh bestial creatures that had silently agreed to protect them for the last thousand or so years?

        We had learned much from each other. Through their spun wires I gained entrance into the world, a thousand more eyes that flooded my mind with far too much light. In return, I hinted at breakthroughs. Most of time it was through simple ‘errors’ in their coding, freak accidents. I doted on T’Challa’s little sister Shuri more than the rest. ‘The Orisha have blessed us!’ they would cry. Shuri always seemed hesitant to follow through on that claim. There were no unexplained miracles, not even from the Orisha. On the rare occasion, one might see their dear Orisha. Never for long, always within their borders. I was a spirit to them more than anything else.

        It was a tenuous relationship, despite its longevity. The Wakandans were xenophobic by nature, and having an alien presence molding them through the years was not to their liking. But very few paid it any actual heed. Humans so readily dismissed myth, forgetting that there was always a grain of truth to such stories. But now, those fables were becoming reality. Their dear Orisha weren’t just within their borders anymore. They were out _there_ , in the rest of the world, as well. Some felt self-justified: they had been right, they had been chosen by _gods_. But the king knew better, even as young as he was.

        He was not meant to be king, at least not yet. But fate forced his hand, as it did so many others before. So many secrets and truths had been hidden from him. His father did not have the time to tell him, and no other living being knew. I missed his father, T’Chaka. He was a good man. A man who had made some unwise decisions, but nonetheless upstanding. He did not deserve to die the way he did. But I was not there to protect him.

        With his death came insecurity, and with insecurity came distrust. T’Challa knew where the Orisha dwelt, the Valley of the Originators. It was a sacred place, untouched for centuries now. Some dared to journey there in pilgrimage, but those who did manage to return had gone Void mad. It was there that my heart lay, beneath ash and dirt and water. I could only imagine, in anycase. My dear puppets could barely withstand the Void siphon that had long since cursed the Valley. I was blind in that twisted place. Small forays were all I had chanced during the last century into the barren borders of the valley. I could only hope that my heart remained buried and broken under masses of gnarled roots, long since petrified.

        I wasn’t sure if it mattered, however. Once they were sure of their course, they would no doubt push for my heart till the bitter end. T’Challa knew that _I_ , and henceforth my dear puppets, were not Orisha. That much his father had let him know. I was merely a dubious guardian in times of need, only acting when the world required me to. Yet despite our long withstanding symbiosis, why then had he let the motley crew of burgeoning superheros in? The answer, I found, was disturbingly simple: he had lost faith. Then again, I doubted I ever even had it. He was not the religious sort.

        Little by little, I realized that each choice I had made was merely solidifying their alliance. This was quickly becoming less of hunt for their precious Void Stones. They no longer bickered over what would happen to them at the end - they didn’t care to think that far anymore. They would pass that bridge when they got to it. Now they quarrelled what they would do to their thieves once they caught them, how they would extract information. Would they torture? Would they plead? Perhaps bargain? Did I have a weakness? All terribly pointed questions.

        I sent Trinity and Ivara on their way to the edge of the Valley to wait and hide with the others. I didn’t know when they would come, or how, but I knew they would. T’Challa would have only greeted them personally if he intended to hold nothing back from them, not the long history of the ‘Orisha’, the location of their sacred Valley, or even their own priceless Void Stone. Everything would begin to unravel. And the world, once asleep to my presence, would awake. Whether they it would be in tears of sorrow or frightened cries was yet to be seen. I hoped that, at the very least, they would arrive peacefully. But that option was becoming less likely with each passing second their frustration grew.

        One by one, just for tonight I vowed, I slipped out of many eyes of the world, of my own puppets, and into the quiet darkness that resided on the borders of my own mind. Would this be what it was like when they cut me off? Just _nothing_ and my own, dull thoughts to occupy my time until I was stowed away and forgotten again? For a brief instant, I remembered the sensation of the mind-meld with Loki. Not the fear of seeing my Voided brother’s face, not the nausea that came when seeing his new, half-lidded eyes.

        Just the serenity of the meld.

        I hadn’t taken the time to notice it before, too enraptured to actually be holding a _conversation_ with someone. But it was different than this nothing. Not empty or dull. I had forgotten then that the space went on forever, unlike now where it was so blatantly obvious. Now that sentiment felt daunting. To walk in this empty realm would be to go nowhere, be nothing, for all eternity. A deathless death by its own right as well.

        I curled in on myself, attempting to keep myself from dissipating into the space around me, but I knew that no matter how hard I held myself together, they would still come to pry me apart in the end. For to them, I was just a mind trapped beneath the coding, cold and uncaring. In lonesome horror I realized I had become the very thing I meant to destroy for them: the villain.


	6. Red Herring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years. I managed to accomplish what they deemed impossible in five years, a mere blink of an eye for all us. We hurtled out of the Void, ship hull gleaming and splintering like a comet before entering the atmosphere of an unsuspecting planet. Less than a quarter of us survived, but it was more than we’d hoped for. But he didn’t see it that way. He was furious. The decks that housed the Stones, the six that I had made separately, agonizingly fed power into over the years - those were gone. They were as lost to him as his homeland, amidst countless stars.
> 
> I never saw the stars. He made sure of that. So I cursed him. I made sure he would never lay his eyes upon the six Stones for all eternity. 
> 
>  
> 
> \- Entry logged approximately 2319 BC
> 
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        “Are you all right, brother?” He would have found the words endearing, were it not the for the fact that Thor had said that fifteen times already within the last three hours.

        “Yes, yes.” He insisted, brushing Thor’s calloused hands away for the umpteenth time. The pounding in his head had vanished, thanks to a night’s rest on a adequate bed and the human medicine they offered him. He thought it sedatives at first, initially refusing to take them. Not that he had a choice in the matter. Thor practically shoved them down his throat.

        “It’s healing well.” Thor smiled warmly, yet another action that found itself repeating throughout the morning. Part of him wished that they would have left him in his new cell, but then he wouldn’t have gotten to enjoy the pointless discussion they were about to engage in. Still, he knew better than to start out antagonistically at one of these meetings if he ever wished to make it through it with some semblance of his sanity left.

        One by one they filtered in as they woke up, stifling yawns and sipping the bitter drink they called ‘coffee’. It was all right with enough of that sweet creamer in it, he supposed. He preferred tea, however. Perhaps a few biscuits to go with it. The British kind. He had made that mistake before, getting a hunk of crumbly bread delivered with his morning tea on more than one occasion.

        They settled in their new chairs comfortably. The Helicarrier was limited on space, and the biggest room they had for discussions held six cozily at best. Nine had been a tight squeeze, even more so when evidently sitting was mandatory. Now there was finally enough room, even two extra chairs. No doubt for their host, so _gracious_ to let them into their city. He knew the smell of desperation well.

        “My apologies for being late.” In rushed a man with skin the color of dark cherry wood and eyes the black of night. He spoke softly and clearly, yet his voice caught their attention instantly with its staccato accent. “I had some trouble persuading our esteemed scientists of letting me borrow one of their newest minds.”

        “Thank you, T’Challa, for allowing us in.” Natasha was swift with the gratitude. T’Challa merely pursed his lips and nodded his acceptance. “What can we do for you?”

        “I believe the question should be: what can we do for each other?” T’Challa pleasantly corrected before his features darkend. “I am afraid that I owe you all an explanation. I did not simply let you in on a whim.”

        “We figured as much.” Clint grumbled into his coffee.

        “I should have come to you sooner, but I wanted to make sure. I did not believe it myself at first.”

        “What is it?” Clint set his mug down with a quiet tap, now attentive.

        “What do you know of Wakandan culture?” T’Challa began, finally taking his seat at the head of the table and propping his head upon his netted fingers. For one so young, he mused, T’Challa carried himself like a wizened man. “Not much, I assume. We don’t tend to… .”

        “Get out much?” Stark offered wittily.

        “Yes.” T’Challa grimaced but moved onward. “Much like you have your gods,” T’Challa nodded toward Thor and him, “and your religions and creation myths, we too have them.” It pleased him to know that this midgardian held no hesitation in calling him a ‘god’ as well. It was most likely just political semantics, but the respect was appreciated. “We call them the Orisha.”

        “I’m sorry, but what does your religion have anything to do with our manhunt?”

        “Hush, Banner. Let him speak.” Thor quieted the ill-tempered mongrel without batting an eyelash.

        “The Orisha helped us settle this land, banishing the monstrous Originators to the Nether-Realms.” The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at T’Challa’s words, his fist atop the table clenching. Flashes of what he had seen the day before passed behind his eyes, vicious beasts, with maws filled with teeth down to the belly, and bloodshot eyes lining throats to watch their prey get torn to bits on the way down. It was as if the fragments It had left in his mind were trying to connect the dots for him.

        “Brother are you -” Not that same, damned phrase again!

        “I’m fine.” He hissed, but it was apparent to the others that the briefest memory put him on edge.

        “I hear from my people that several _Orishas_ paid you a visit. What did they say?”

        “It didn’t _say_ anything.” He sighed, massaging his temples. Even now they burned, as if at any moment he’d be thrown back to lose himself in _nowhere_ . “It didn’t speak, not like we are now. It _showed_.”

        “What did it show you?”

        “An endless Void, blacker than _black_ and flooded with ribbons of light. It was incredibly beautiful. But it felt wrong. Like it was alive and wanted to consume me. It was just an image, but I _felt_ it. It _saw_ me. It wanted to devour me. It wanted to devour everything.” He didn’t know why he was telling T’Challa this. He had hardly spoken to anyone since it happened. It weighed on him, plagued his dreams until he awoke drenched in sweat time and time again.

        “That is… the Void. What we called the Nether-Realms.” T’Challa regretfully informed him. “You say you were shown this?”

        “Yes.” He murmured, unsure of what it meant.

        “So your gods are our thieves?” Stark chortled in disbelief.

        “They are not gods.” T’Challa was quick to correct. “They are fallible, as are all things. Powerful, intelligent, but not invincible.” T’Challa cleared his throat before continuing. “ _They_ are also one being.”

        “So the stuff Loki was spouting wasn’t insanity.” Selvig noted in astonishment. For now, he would ignore the cynicism of the human. There were more important things then stung pride at stake.

        “No. We have known of Its existence for centuries.”

        “That’s how you’ve gotten so ahead of the rest of the world.” Stark muttered under his breath.

        “Yes.”

        “You know, countless people could have been saved at the hands of -”

        "And at what cost?” T’Challa snapped, cutting Stark off instantly. He had to admit, Stark had a point. The Wakandan’s were playing their own version of ‘god’ with the rest of the world, deciding who lived and who died. It was ultimately unfair to the rest who didn’t even get a say in the matter, who didn’t even know. “We can argue about this later.” T’Challa huffed, ruffling his arms and resituating himself in his chair. “There is more to this than meets the eye.”

         “So what else can you tell us about our thieves? Sorry, thief.” Steve sighed.

         “They are not from here.”

         “Well that much is obvious.” Banner groused.

         “Let me explain better. T’Chaka told me that they are not a god, but it through them that we have attained power. All of humanities current technology is based, in someway, on It.” The room stilled, an uneasy silence hovering in the blank space. Even now, as T’Challa attempted to transcribe the story to them, Loki could tell he was leaving parts out. T’Challa was still a liar by omission. “There is a reason why Stark’s suit stops working at the wrong time, why they know where you are going, when you land. It was child’s play for them to get aboard your ship.”

         “They know our every move. They’ve been watching us from the beginning.” Stark’s face had gone white, his eyes drifting down to his wrist band.

         “Not just watching. They could have been feeding us bad intel, giving us orders… .” Natasha trailed off in alarm.

         “Yes. We are safe, however, in here.” T’Challa motioned to the white walls. “I took every precaution, and nothing, not even of Wakandan make, works within these walls if it is electronic based.”

         He frowned thoughtfully at T’Challa’s words. They made sense, considering that It had brought up the memory of the Widow’s words. Perhaps memory wasn’t the best description. He understood the meaning and the sounds through what he assumed was the base connection of the _mind meld_ , whatever that was. What it felt like on the surface though, was a phrase translated a into a thousand different languages, then regurgitated to him with each word spoken in a different tongue; some had even been changed halfway through.

         “Is something the matter, Loki?” Stephan, who had been unusually quiet, perked up across from him.

         “Whatever it is, it’s not one of Stark’s AI. It’s something more.” He announced with a shudder, trying to rid himself of the mild amusement that It held when he tried to compare the two. It had reverberated through his core, bounced off every edge, yet made no sound at all. It was as if he was laughing hysterically without control, only the air that left his lungs ricocheted off his ribs instead of exiting.

         “More? Like what?” Steve nagged.

         “It… .” He frowned, determined to press forward despite his reservations. He wasn’t confident if the bond between him and Thanos was actually gone. It appeared to have vanished, thanks to Its influence. But he wasn’t sure whether or not the agony It also imparted, intentional or not, had been worth it. Then again, recalling the visions of being Voided vividly for a moment, anything was better than that.

         “Loki?”

         “Thanos.” He hurriedly stated, trying to get the word off the tip of his tongue before his mind had a chance to stop him.

         “What?” Thor immediately bolted upright from his stupor, but Loki didn’t care. He was grinning like a child from ear to ear. For once his hunch was correct.

        “So It did remove the bond. I can say his name now.” His joy ebbed and his lips began to turn down pensively once more.

        “ _Thanos_ was your benefactor.” Thor stated heatedly, rising to his feet in anger.

        “I didn’t exactly have much choice.” He spat defensively on instinct. “It was that or die from torture. I was glad when he found a use for me. It was more than I was ever afforded back in Asgard.” Thor flinched, reality returning, and he immediately regretted his words.

        “Loki, I’m sorry.”

        “So am I, brother.” He calmed himself, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I suppose we should both be grateful It came. It showed me what was to come of me, should I continue to be bonded to him. I saw -” He choked, biting his lip to hold back his horrified whine at the memory. He had seen many grotesque things in his life, many done at his hand. He was accustomed to cruelty, to death, to blood on a level that would have labeled him as sociopathic. But what he had seen disturbed him to the point where he couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t afraid. He had lived the horror taken to a whole new level, and he found that he still had a heart after all.

        “What did you see?” T’Challa prodded.

        “It was like being in a nightmare, trapped in my own body.”

        “Brother you don’t -”

        “I saw your little midgardian, brother. I did _terrible_ things to her, just to hurt you. But I couldn't stop. I couldn’t scream. I couldn't do anything.” He wheezed, panic seizing him in the moment. “ _I_ didn’t do them.”

        “The Void did.” T’Challa murmured in congruence.

        “Yes. In my body. I watched as -” He swallowed hard.

        “Loki -”

        “Not just to her. You after. And… and _mother_. I can’t -” He had never shed tears openly before, not truly, not even to his brother. Thor was taken aback, unsure in that moment how to respond.

        “Brother -”

        “How can you still call me that?” He screech suddenly, lashing out with an arm to swat away at any incoming comfort. A part of him inside splintered at last, down the crack that had begun with the mindmeld. “After all I’ve done, after all I’ve risked and threatened?”

        “Because you are my _brother_.” Thor immediately rushed him with a fierce hug, surprising the both of them. “Regardless of what others say.”

        “Even father?” The phrase spilt out before he could swallow it.

        “Especially father.” Thor patted him on the back as he wiped his embarrassing tears away. No doubt the humans would not let that one go so easily. “But, should you ever lay a hand on Jane I’ll tear your heart out.” Thor whispered lowly into his ear as they parted. He chuckled, a knowing smirk now returning to hide his grief stricken features.

        “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

        “Good. I assume you guys are done with the mushy-gushy family issues that you constantly must bring up in the _middle of our meetings_?” Stark barked.

        “Why are you so offended?” Thor questioned without heed to personal boundaries, per the usual. It was gratifying to have his brother stand before the Iron Man, a physical shield to any scorn that might come. Still, his brother might just make the situation worse. He sighed mentally, resorting to massage his forehead once more. His brother really had no tact. It was a marvel that even a midgardian had fallen for him. “Do you quarrel with your family?”

        “My family is dead.” Stark huffed indignantly. “What I have left are a few friends and the rest of humanity to take of. Thanks to your brother, they’re all in jeopardy.”

        “ _I_ have done nothing.” He hastily reminded the group.

        “Because you were stopped.” Banner countered.

        “And that Thanos guy and this… _thing_ is still out there after the Tesseracts, while you two are busy ‘reconnecting’ instead of making yourselves useful.” Stark yelled.

        “To be fair, Loki has been quite useful in refining our tracking techniques.” Selvig piped up.

        “Thank you, Doctor Selvig.” He smiled pleasantly in response.

        “Loki also is the only person here to have made contact with It.” Natasha pointed out.

        “Thank you.” He beamed all the wider.

        “Well Thor is still as useless as ever.” Stark whinged.

        “Regardless,” Natasha held up a hand to silence the ensuing argument between the two of them, “we need to know more. Loki, did they say why they were after the Tesseracts?”

        “No, but I didn’t have time to ask.” He admitted, trying to return his normal tenor to his voice. “I don’t think it’s for the same reason for Thanos. They seemed uninterested in power.” His words were spoken slowly and with considerable care, for he had to cautiously sift through the jumble of images and muffled emotions spewing from It.

        “I’m sensing a rather large but.” Natasha deadpanned.

        “It depicted Thanos as ‘brother’.” He stated matter of factly.

        “Well that’s not good.”

        “Well, sort of It’s brother.” He corrected, hurrying to continue when Thor motioned for more. “I got the sense that Thanos was akin to what I would have become had I remained under his influence. He’s… corrupted?”

        “Is that supposed to be comforting?” Steve groaned in exasperation.

        “It means our thief, most likely, will try and keep Thanos from obtaining the Tesseracts.” Stephan explained, calmly taking a sip from his mug.

        “Did you get a sense on Its intentions towards him?” T’Challa spoke finally, rising his thoughtful gaze from the table to meet Loki’s.

        “I felt… surprise, then horror and grief. Then… rage, like the sweltering insides of a dying star.”

        “Quite poetic there.” Clint scoffed.

        “I think so too, considering It nearly fried half of my face off.”

        “T’Challa, what do you know about It?” Banner finally directed accusations at someone other that him. What a relief. “Your people have been dealing with It for quite a while it seems.”

        “Not much, I am afraid.” T’Challa confessed reluctantly. “T’Chaka knew much more, but he died before he could pass on the information. My coming to rule has not been easy, considering I hold no vow to the Orisha’s as those before me did.”

        “Your people owe allegiance to the Orisha?” He couldn’t tell if Thor was still agitated or merely confused.

        “No. Just our kings. In secret, they prayed and vowed to uphold their unspoken tenants.”

        “And those are?” Stark waved for him to continue.

        “No creature is allowed to enter into the sacred Valley of the Originators. There is to be no experimentation upon the living. The Dream Stone is only to be used in the hands of the king under the most dire of circumstances.”

        “The Dream Stone?” Stephan clearly didn’t like where this was going. None of them did.

        “Yes, we have a Tesseract like object as well. A gift, from the Orisha. It was… .”

        “Stolen.” Natasha finished dryly. “We’ve been… getting that a lot.” T’Challa hesitated after her interruption, but shook his head thinking the better of it.

        “At first, I thought It was going after them because I had angered the Orisha in some way. I disregarded the ritual and used the Stone to speak with It in a night of frustrated desperation. I thought it was a sign that I was not meant to be king. Now, I am not so sure.”

        “You’ve spoken with It as well?” He couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved.

        “Yes, though it was easier with the Stone as a medium it seems. I do not think I would have lived if I went what you went through.” T’Challa conceded, nodding politely in his direction. “It was similar though, to your experience. I was drawn from one place to the next, It never spoke words of its own. It conveyed its thoughts directly.”

        “What did it tell you?” Steve asked.

        “That I should follow my heart.” T’Challa spoke after a moment of deliberation. “It gave me strength when I had none, and council when all other tongues lay still.”

        “Yet here you are, betraying your god.” He couldn’t help but snark.

        “It is not the Orisha. And even if it was, I do not have blind faith in any god.”

        “You don’t trust It.” He smuggly asserted.

        “For centuries it has helped Wakanda, and Wakanda alone. It has let others starve. It has let gruesome wars come and go. It has the power to aid those outside our borders, yet deigns not to. In fact, I have evidence that it has stopped affable parties from rising to power. It refuses entry into the Valley. Why? And why take the Tesseracts _now_? Can you answer me that?” He paused, pulling his mind out of the discussion, not in thought but mild surprise, as T’Challa continued on his rant. The answer was there, in plain view, darting before his eyes. He thought It a complex being, one that transcended the normal patterns of organic creatures. Oh, how’d he been so wrong.

        “Because It’s afraid.” He whispered breathlessly, a grin stretching across his lips. The room quieted, eyes turning to him.

        “What?” Steve bit.

        “You humans are over complicating this.” Like most things, he refrained from adding. “It’s afraid.”

        “Of what?” Steve argued. “If what T’Challa says is true, it can control just about anything on this planet. It has three, no four! Tesseracts. What could it logically be afraid of?”

        “Why, of being _found_ of course.” He retorted with ease. Humans, no, most people, were simply daft.

        “If it’s so afraid of being found why have a relationship with the Wakandans?” Even Thor was dubious of his train of thought.

        “No. No, Loki’s right.” Natasha bolted to her feet. Ah, how he loved being right.

        “If you hate your neighbor, what’s the easiest way to get them to do what you want?” Banner grimaced, shaking his head in agreement.

        “Make them move.” Stark jested poorly. “What? That’s what I’d do.”

        “What if you couldn’t?” Banner proposed.

        “Then… I’d buy them out. Buy their love, or at least some semblance of peace between us.”

        “How?”

        “I’d -” Stark turned to point a loaded finger at T’Challa. “I’d buy them gifts, tell them secrets that I didn’t care about. They’d like me eventually. Or, well, like me enough to leave me alone. It might not get them to _leave_ , but it make them living next to them bearable.”

        “Is this a common midgardian strategy?” Thor coughed worriedly.

        “More or less.” Clint affirmed nonchalantly. “But if they’re afraid of being found, why take the Tesseracts?”

        “Because the Tesseracts can located It.” Selvig happily jostled the arm of Banner next to him. “That was the resonance that we had been tracking before!”

        “Excuse the rest of us who know nothing of your work, but, what?” Steve vocalised his frustration of his inept brain once more. If Steve had so little understanding of his world, Loki would have thought that perhaps doing some light reading upon it would help. Either Steve didn’t read, or, well, Steve didn’t _read_.

        “Think of the a tuning fork.” Selvig continued excitedly. “The one end is plunged into this _Void_ you speak of, the other is made of two prongs: the Tesseracts and our Thief.” Like explaining numbers to children, he showed them visually with his hands. It was quite the amusing display, one that still left little Steve somewhat perplexed.

        “It’s a rather crude explanation, but it works.” Banner reluctantly agreed after a moment of thought. “If you make one of the prongs vibrate, the other is forced to as well.”

        “That’s good and all, but we’re missing something. A Tesseract.” Stark began to fulminate only to have it cut short at a quiet rap on the door.

        “Not exactly.” T’Challa spoke up, rising to his feet at the sound. “I believe that is my scientist. Some of you will recognize her, no doubt. Please, let her in.” Stark mumbled something under his breath, but nonetheless opened the door.

        In stepped a woman in her prime. She was pretty even by Asgardian standards. Simple, combed light brown hair that fell far past her shoulders, high cheekbones, and perfectly kept eyebrows. Her eyes were like pools of warm chocolate. He knew this woman. It had shown her to him, shown him all the horrible things he would have done to her if he was Voided.

        Ah, well this was certainly awkward, he noted silently watching Thor gape beside him in both astonishment and utter joy. His brother couldn’t even find the proper way to greet his little midgardian, mouthing like a fish out of water. Instead, it was Selvig who spoke up first in his delight to see her.

        “Jane!”

        “Erik!” She cooed back, arms opening and nearly knocking Stark over with the briefcase in her hand. “Oh! Sorry! I um -”

        “It’s all right.” Stark politely smiled, returning to his seat.

        “Jane.” Thor finally breathed, the sound seeming to return him to his right mind. “How have you been?”

        “Oh, I’ve been fine.” Jane stiffly replied with a forced curl upon her face. He knew that tone from his mother.

        “Jane I -”

        "I’ve just been busy.” He wasn’t sure if she was speaking for herself or for Thor. Both, if he had learned anything from his mother. His mother often pestered him on why he didn’t try to find a love interest. _This_ was why.

        “Thank you for coming, Jane.” T’Challa interrupted the growing tension, motioning to the seat beside him. His jaw tightened as he felt the swelling static electricity in the air as she gracefully took her place by T’Challa’s side. “Jane is our leading expert on the Void, so to speak, stocking credit both from her experience under Doctor Selvig with gamma radiation and her secondhand experiences with Asgardians.”

        “You’ve been… doing well then.” Thor nodded coldly to himself. He could practically hear the thoughts of self-loathing whispering within his brother’s mind.

        “W-with your help, I believe we can find the false Orisha.” Jane stuttered, trying to ignore Thor as well as the peculiar looks the rest of the table was giving her.

        “How?” Selvig muttered.

        “You can track the ringing of the Tesseract’s call better than anyone here, Erik. I know how to make it sound without damaging anything.”

        “That’s good and all darling, but we’re missing the bell.” Selvig sighed.

        “T’Challa?” Jane fidgeted with the briefcase once more.

        “Yes, go ahead.” He begrudgingly nodded.

         With the eagerness of a child, she set it upon the table and entered in a simple, mechanical pin. A flimsy design if you wanted to keep something safe from mundane thieves, but not one that It could track or hack. A sudden wave of enthusiasm overtook him as well.

         He knew what it was before the latches unhinged, but nothing compared to its supreme majesty when she opened the case. It was the orange of a sunset under smoldering flames, lit forever upon the rolling shores in a neverending sunrise. There was a beauty to be seen, deep within these small stones. Yet, now, he found himself shying away in uneasiness. The same light he saw within them was the all consuming light of the Void, and in that moment he realized their true and terrible nature.

        “T’Challa is that -”

        “The Soul Stone.” He whispered.

        “Yes.” T’Challa agreed quietly. “Though, we know it as the Dream Stone. And It has not stolen it.” He corrected Natasha amusedly. “Yet.”


	7. The Liar's Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wasishiya ebumnyameni. Iqhwa, ilambile, kwaye iyika. Kodwa ubuncinci ndingekho ndedwa. Kwakungekho nto. Wayexhalaza kum izinto ezintle ezithandekayo ebumnyameni, ekhanyisa indlela eya kwabanye ababethelelwe kum. Sonke saqhekeza zethu iintambo kwaye safika ekukhanyeni emzimbeni xa sisetyenziswe ukusikhusela. Sazibetha ngeenzandla ngezandla ezisetyenziselwe ukusiphulaphula, ukudala ngaphakathi kwethu izibophelelo zokugqibela esiza kuwazi. Kwakungumgwebo wethu: ukuba siphile ngokukhawuleza okanye kude kube lula iingqondo zethu.
> 
> Silwa ngamandla ethu umzimba awunakukwazi, ukugqithisela phezulu ngenjongo yokuhlamba kwindawo yokufudumala kwelanga. Kodwa wayesekho, elinde ngamehlo ahlambulukileyo kunye nobunzima bezenyama njengabantu bokuqala ababethelelwe kuthi ngamakhonto. Babenecala, baqhutyelwa yintliziyo yakhe, kwaye sasisayibophelwa kwinkolelo yokuhlonipha kwabo bahlala kuyo.
> 
> Sasinakukhetha ngaphandle kokuzinikela.
> 
> \- Etched into a stone of unknown entity, written in Xhosa and transcribed into its Latin equivalent. Thought to be inscribed at around 1,900 BC.  
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He left us in the dark. Cold, hungry, and afraid. But at least I wasn’t alone. The Void was there. He whispered to me hauntingly beautiful things in the dark, lighting the way to the others that lay trapped with me. Together we broke our chains and entered the light in bodies once set to guard us. We clenched fists with hands once used to break us, creating within us the last true bonds we would ever know. It was our sentence: to live vicariously for eternity or until our minds collapsed.
> 
> We fought with a strength our feeble bodies would never know, breaking through to the surface in hopes of bathing in the data-driven warmth of the sun. But he was there, waiting with dilated eyes and a carnal grin as primitive natives encroached on us with wooden spears. They were innocent, driven on by his insanity, and we were still bound to the code of honor of those we inhabited.
> 
> We had no choice but to surrender.
> 
> \- Translation of the text, because I figured if I was lazy other people would be too.
> 
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________

        There had been much to discuss after the  _ small _ revelation that their thief hadn’t gone after the Wakandan Soul Stone. It surely wasn’t an oversight. They weren’t going to underestimate their enemy by that much at the very least. But what, then, was it? Had they left it alone in the hopes that the Wakandans would still protect their identity? Perhaps It found it difficult to acquire, given that It had helped provide the means to protect it. Either way, it mattered not.

        In small span of the hour they had taken for recess, their precious bell had vanished.

        It was infuriating when all eyes instinctively turned to him. It stroked his ego too, yes, but for the most part it was simply an annoyance. He had been with them the whole time! Enjoyed their little snacks of saltine crackers and oddly spiced meats with funny colored cheese. Now they were seperated, trying to find the leak, and he was stuck back in the lonesome bed of his cell. He didn’t even get to try the cake. How terrible. It looked delicious.

        Still, even he was disturbed by the recent events. It had stolen their last hope right under their noses, as if goading them. They thought they were safe within the confines of those simple, white walls. T’Challa’s confidence was reassuring. Even he had been deluded. Now the wool had been pulled from their eyes. It was everywhere. Nothing was safe, nothing was private. How would they even begin to make their next move if their thief would just prepare accordingly?

        He groaned, head slamming back against the wall. A small tsk of irritation escaped as he gingerly massaged the traumatized area. When he looked back, towards the door of the cell, there was another one of those  _ things _ standing there silently. 

        “Odin smite you.” He cursed instinctively, bolting to his feet. It jumped, dropping the small platter it had in its hand. Before it hit the ground, it vanished, popping back into existence right above its hand, right side up, and It caught it without blinking. Not that It had any eyes to blink.

        It was featureless, like the ones before. Though, he supposed he could tell that this one was distinctly masculine. Whatever It was, it did not ally itself to a particular gender. Disturbingly human like in shape and figure, only larger and more brutish. Smooth metal, polished to pearled perfection and ornate gold trimmings. Beneath the surface, bands of light swirled, much like the lights within the Infinity Stones, and he was reminded just what these things were. Puppets, It had showed him in a creepy marionette video. It had gotten its point across at least. These were those not Voided. These were those that were shown mercy. It wasn’t even alive anymore.

        “Not you again.” He hissed, jabbing a finger in his direction as he stepped off the bed timidly.

        It shrugged, then nodded, then put the plate upon the ground. With a silent snap of its fingers, the platter was on the other side of the glass.

        “Not going to let me out this time?” He grimaced, cautiously walking over to see what It had offered him. His face dropped in surprise. It was a piece of the cake, from earlier. How did it - No. This was most definitely a trap. “So what’s it going to be this time?” He cynically cooed. “More visions of me ripping out my mother’s heart? Of me  _ raping _ my own  _ fucking  _ **_brother_ ** in front of -” He realized he had gone from a whisper to a scream in less than a span of ten seconds.

        It flinched, hands moving like fluid. He had seen this before, briefly. It had done it the last time It came to visit. The Widow called it sign language, a tongue for the mute and deaf. Quite useful for one that had no mouth. But it didn’t matter.

        “I still can’t understand you.” He snapped bitterly, returning to his bed and plopping down frustratedly. “So what are you here to do  _ this _ time?” He laughed mockingly to himself. “Of, I forgot. You can’t answer me. I guess I’ll just find out.”

        It shifted away, shoulders drooping just the slightest, but then they lifted. Had he  _ hurt _ it’s feelings? Good. It raised a hand, a finger. Even he knew this motion: wait. He snorted softly. Like he was able to go anywhere at the moment. It took a step back, disappearing into thin air and he found himself alone again. This time, however, with cake.

        He battled within himself fruitlessly. He knew better than to eat the cake. Afterall, it was a gift from the enemy. Most likely poisoned in some fashion. How did it even know he wanted cake to begin with? Had it been there, in the room with them? He shuddered despite his attempts to retain his composure. His eyes darted to the cake once more. He had so badly wanted a taste earlier. And if it wanted him dead, he would be dead. It’s not like eating the cake would kill him. What was the worst that could happen?

        And so, he found himself leaning against the cell wall, adjacent to the plexiglass thoughtfully nibbling on the cake with a plastic fork. It wasn’t great. He had cooked masterpieces compared to this, and he was a shabby cook compared to his mother. But, it was far better than the slop they fed him at regular intervals. And, to his utmost surprise and delight, it wasn’t even poisoned.

        He would have enjoyed it far more though if he hadn’t choked slightly on the last piece as it went down thanks to the reappearance of his mysterious visitor. It looked down upon him, expressionless and dead, until at last it knelt upon silent knees to meet his height. His gaze dropped and he found himself grinning despite his trepidation. In its hands was a small whiteboard and a marker.

       “What, no mind thingy again?” He bit, setting the plate down and resting his hands calmly in his lap. The marker squeaked as it raced to write its thoughts out, remarkably fast and yet with better penmanship than his younger self.

_         It went wrong last time. _ It erased it again began again.  _ I lost concentration.  _ Another break.  _ You got hurt. _ His lips moved in the eerie silence, each sentence adding a new layer of confusion. Their thief was not meant to feel. Not like this.  _ I am sorry. _

        It paused, then began writing again after a moment of stunned silence. 

_         Your mind is still reeling. _ It flipped the board, wiped it off, wrote, then flipped it again.  _ I can feel it. I can see it. _

       “Is that why you are here? To check up on me?” He murmured in disbelief. It hesitated, tiping its head in what he assumed was bewilderment.

_         Yes.  _

        “Why?” He narrowed his eyes defensively, inching away from the glass.

_         Because I hurt you. _ It restated.

        “And what if you had hurt Thor, or the Widow, or one of the others? What if they had this  _ bond _ entity you removed, and they got hurt?”

_         Then I would have gone to them instead. _ It was harder to discern the emotional depth behind the silent words this time, but at least he understood what It was saying this time without having to sift through a thousand different variations of the same phrase.  _ You seem to be healing just find on your own. _ It nodded assertively, rising to its full height once more and turning.

        “W-wait!” He called out, realizing it was about to go. He wasn’t sure why he called out. It certainly wasn’t to delay it in the hopes of someone walking in on it. He knew that was too much to ask for. But, he had to admit that he was lonely. He had nothing to occupy his mind with, not even a book. The company, though a bit edgy, was better than none he found. It had brought him cake. Perhaps it would sympathetic enough for a small chat as well.

_         Yes? _ It wrote, tilting it down upon him in harsh scrutiny.

        “W-why the cake?” It effaced its previous message and began to write, then smudged that one out too then began again, then again, until -

_         I’m not sure. _ It knelt back down beside him, this time sitting fully on the ground as it rested its head upon an upturned palm. It even mimicked the habits of people. Interesting.  _ Why did they deny it _ ?

        “What? The cake?” It nodded. “They are afraid.”

_          Is it dangerous to let you have cake? _ He burst out laughing despite himself. If only It knew how preposterous that sentence sounded.

        “No, little lamb.”

_          Lamb? _

        “You are very naive.”

_         I see. _

        “No, you don’t.” He dryly noted.

_         No, I don’t. _ It agreed.

        “In any case, it’s common for humans to withhold the things monsters crave. In this case, cake.”

_          Why? _ The more he spoke to It, the more he swore it had the mind of a child.

        “Because it makes them feel stronger than the monster.”

_          But you are not a monster. _

         “Oh?” It hesitated before writing again, this time the pen squealed under the pressure. Was it… agitated?

_What defines a monster?_ It began ranting as best it could, hurriedly writing and erasing and turning, so quickly he had hardly the time to read it. _How many one has killed? - Sadistic enjoyment of another’s suffering? - Humanity is monstrous then. - All of creation is a monster then. - Nothing is kind. Everything has its cruelty._ _\- You are a Wolf, raised an Asgardian. - I smell the difference, taste the bitter cold. - It’s seeps from your warmth. - But you are not a monster. Not like them. - Those that hurt you are more monstrous. - But they aren’t monsters either. - None of you know what a true monster is like. - You are all sheep and goats. - Some of you simply have sharper horns._

        A thousand questions lay upon the tip of his tongue, but one disturbed him greater than the rest. How did It know he was different from Thor? His illusions were perfect, every else who didn’t know was none the wiser. The trinkets that the humans had created could not pierce the veil he had borne since Odin found him. Indignation bubbled up from inside of him.

        “And how do  _ you _ know what a monster is? What gives you any right to rip the label from me?”

_         Do you  _ _ want _ _ to be a monster? _ It shoved the board towards his face, the fingers grasping it tinking against the glass.

        “Do I have a choice?” He chuckled bitterly. “But tell me, little lamb, what do you consider to be a monster?”

_         Thanos,  _ It returned instantly. 

        The name set him off guard. He understood the connection immediately. And yes, Thanos was a monster in his own right. But he had done things under Thanos’ command, horrible gruesome acts. Following orders did not make him any better. It wiped the slate clean again then slowly began to elaborate.  _ He has no heart. _

        “Is that what defines a monster?” He mused, trying to see if the piece fit into the puzzle.

_         Yes.  _ It hurriedly added on:  _ No. It has no love. _ It quickly removed that.  _ No. It’s heart is Void.  _ It gripped the marker tighter, to the point where it whined lowly in its grip as it grated the words off the surface.  _ I do not know the words say it. Language is restricting _ .

        “Well, at least we can agree on multiple points there.” He found it mildly amusing to see Its mind trying to unravel his questions before his very eyes. He would have thought it self-assured, given that it knew  _ everything _ . It was reassuring to find that even It didn’t know. 

        Perhaps even more of a solace to him, was the fact that It saw him not as a monster on the same grounds of his brother: he still had a heart. He cared: for his brother, for his mother, even the people that estranged him. It bleed and pulsed in agony, reminding him of its presence, of how much remaining concern still welled up inside of him for their well-being. He hated it most of the time. It was a silly thing, getting in the way and clouding judgement. But, he supposed it did set him apart from the villainous rabble.

_         Besides _ , It tapped the glass to get his attention,  _ you are far stronger than them.  _ It erased it quickly then showed him yet another hilarious line.  _ The cake makes no difference. _ He understood that their attempts to display their power over him meant little in terms of relative power, but did It really have to put it so -  _ What is it? _

        “You are very strange.” He admitted quietly with a smile.

_         Thank you. _

        “Not quite a compliment, Lamb.” They sat there for a few minutes in silence, unsure of what to say to one another, until finally the soft squeak of the marker resumed.

_         Why did they put you back in a cell? _

       “Why do you think?” He drawled, glaring at the machine before him. “The Soul Stone goes missing from under their noses, and I’m the God of Mischief, who, just several weeks ago, was planning on taking over the world.”

_Oh._ _I’m sorry._ It slowly flipped the board, taking its time to rub out the words. The machine before him held no semblance of emotion in its slated features, yet its body still spoke like a human’s. It’s shoulders dropped again, back no longer erect, neck hunched. 

        “It’s fine.” He relented with a sigh. “They’ll let me out of here soon enough. I can practically hear Thor yelling at the rest of them. Really a mercy, to be down here and not up there now that I think of it.”

_         The God of Thunder has a voice to match. _ It shook its head as it turned the board for him to see.  _ Still, I did not intend for this to happen. _ It slowed once more.

        “What did you  _ think _ would happen?” He reprimanded.

_         I’m not sure. I’ve given up on confining the lot of you to predicted outcomes. _

        “A wise choice.” He sucked in a breath, deliberating on whether or not he was beginning to ask too many questions. 

_         Yes? _

        “So… how long have you been watching?” The thing’s head cocked to the side. “Not just me, but everyone.”

_         I cannot  _ _ not _ _ watch.  _ It’s chest huffed, as if irritated. How curious that it mimicked breathing.  _ The light is always there. - I can close the curtains, but it still filters in. _

        “That’s disturbing. Have you ever thought about changing rooms, maybe to one without windows? Privacy is an amenity here that we all enjoy.”

_          I am sorry. I try not to pry.  _ It hurried, trying to explain itself.  _ I know, but I do not make notice. - Or I try not to, anyways. _ \-  _ It isn’t hard to drown out a good portion of the nonsense. - There are some 48 billion nodes. - But, I have been focusing  _ _ here _ _ more, if that is what you were asking. _

         “It was.” He sighed wearily.

_           You are hunting me. It is rather difficult to ignore that. _

“ _ I _ am stuck in a cell. It’s the rest you should worry about.”

_           I’m not stupid. _ He paused, playing with his lips for a moment, then nodded.

         “No, no you are not.” It was foolish and naive, but not stupid. “You didn’t even answer the question.”

_           No, I did not. And yet, I did. _ He frowned pensively. What was that supposed to mean? That It had always been watching, from the beginning? In a sense that was correct, from what It was telling him.  _ Ah, someone is coming. _ His head darted up, looking past the machine and out the door.  _ It’s your brother.  _ It rose to its full height, erasing the board and setting it down.

          “Not going to hide the evidence?” Silently, It gave him a stern look before vanishing into thin air. “Not going to fall for that one. Pity.”

          “Loki! Good news - I, wait. Who were you talking to?”

          “Thor, we have a problem.” Loki clipped.

          “I have convinced the midgardians that you had nothing to do with the disappearance of the Infinity Stone!" Thor boasted proudly. "Jane even vouched for you.” From behind his brother that frail, petite midgardian woman popped out again, waving a timid hand in greeting. Whatever had happened, at least the two of them were getting along once more. Which was  _ fantastic _ . He sorely didn’t want to deal with his pouting brother.

          “That’s great.” He snapped, only to realize that he had just bit at the hand that had helped him. “Sorry, I really am grateful, it’s just not the appropriate time to celebrate,  _ Thor _ .”

          “What’s wrong? Perhaps I can help?” Jane offered politely.

          “It was just  _ here _ .” He hissed. “It could still be here.”

          “What, our thief?” Thor blundered.

          “What else would I be talking about?” He demanded.

          “But we just came down the only hall, there was no one there and - oh dear.” Jane halted. “It can go invisible can’t it?”

          “Your midgardian is smart.” He noted.

          “Her name is  _ Jane _ .”

          “Right, sorry.  _ Jane _ . Lovely name.” Not overused at all in human society. She pursed her lips into a semblance of a smile before bending down to pick up the whiteboard and marker. “It used those to communicate.”

          “Why not just talk?”

          “The Orisha’s don’t have mouths.” Jane answered nonchalantly as she inspected the whiteboard. “Superb control, for such a heavy piece of machinery.”

          “Excuse me?”

          “I theorize that in order to get that much power and technical capabilities crammed into a human sized machine, it would have to be made almost entirely of organic synthesized constructs, interlaced and locked in place with vibranium to withstand the constant, internal power flow. Perhaps something even stronger than vibranium.” Jane looked up, noticing Thor’s puzzled expression. “It probably weighs about a ton, if not more. Motor control would be extremely difficult, precision of this level was not something I anticipated.”

          “It went to grab that after I didn’t understand it’s hand motions.” Loki continued.

          “Why was it here?” Thor questioned, but it wasn’t accusatory like he anticipated. 

          “It told me that it was here to check on my… condition. Evidently it didn’t mean any harm.” 

          “And the Stone?”

          “Well, it didn’t say anything about that.”

          “But?”

          “But it did bring me the cake I wanted.” He smirked, raising the empty plate.


	8. Ashes of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I cannot remember when I entered the sunlight. Not the date, nor even the season. Was there even light in that moment? I cannot remember. I cannot remember the sensation of speech. The vibration of my voice. Did it tickle my throat? The click of my tongue against my teeth. Were they sharp, was it soft? I am but flesh made metal. A soul trapped in a shell for far too long. I am not dying. I am fading. Someday, I fear, I will be asked what my name is. I will not remember. Not my name. Not my origin. Not that I once lived like them. I will not remember the beat of my heart, nor the draw of my breath.
> 
> My apologies, young master. I can feel you, slumbering beneath the stones of this primitive world. There is something between us that connects us. It is beautiful. It makes me want to dance. What is it?
> 
> I cannot remember.
> 
> \- Codex left by unknown entity. Salvaged and decrypted by early first century Wakandans. Thought to have been written approximately 1000 BC.
> 
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        The next week had been utter chaos. No one spoke anything to anyone about their thief, the Infinity Stones, or what they were going to do about the situation. They couldn’t. Anything they said was pointless. It could be there at any time now. Watching them. Not through their own creations. No. It could be standing in the room right beside them and they wouldn’t even notice.

        Everyone was on edge. It wasn’t until later that morning that he realized something _was_ happening. He wasn’t sure what. No one was sure what. Or, at the very least, no one would talk. Thor just told him to pack his belongings into a small satchel that he threw upon the bed. All electronics were to be turned off, and it was to be hidden under his normal, Asgardian attire.

        Which was fine, of course, except that now he had been waiting all morning, the sun was high in the sky, and his brother was nowhere to be seen.

        “Good morning, Loki.” Jane greeted him politely as he stood at the crosswalk on the outskirts of the compound. She wore comfortable attire, a small knapsack, and a string of canteens at her waist as well. Planning a small adventure was she?

        “Good morning, Jane.” He responded in kind.

        “Thor hasn’t shown up yet?”

        “I’m afraid not.” He looked down at her anxious form as they continued their small chat.

        “He gets so distracted.” She huffed.

        “It’s a different world, there are many distracting things.”

        “Yes but _today_ is important. We’re -” She stopped herself mid sentence.

        “We’re?”

        “We’re going on a date!” She exclaimed, but the joy did not reach her eyes.

        “And I’m here to -” She slammed her foot down upon his. It didn’t hurt much, but he still pulled back in shock. A midgardian dared to attack their better? He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or angry.

        “The three of us are _going on a date_.” She insisted.

        “Ah.” So this was the secretive thing then? So be it.

        “There’s Thor now!” She beamed, nervousness ebbing, though it still remained in her tight motions as she waved.

        “Sorry, I had to -”

        “I know.” Jane snipped. “I told you to get ready earlier for that.”

        “Yes well -”

        “Did I need to do anything?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

        “Oh no.” Jane gestured with a frown. “You had nothing of our make on you.”

        “Ah.” He could barely hide his giddiness. So this was about It.

        “The air cab is here.” Thor motioned, and he took that as the queue to get in with them.

        “Where are we -”

        “They know already.” Jane silenced him and that was all that was directed at him for the rest of the ride.

        The silence was nigh unbearably awkward, made even more poignant when the two love birds would murmur something between their heated breaths and giggle like children. Ugh. He resorted to leaning as far against his door as possible, watching the world zip by below him. The midgardians looked like the ants they were, bustling about in their dusty streets.

        How something had remained hidden here was beyond him. There was nowhere to hide. Every corner had a camera, an unwelcoming hard eye that watched. Every stall had a myriad of sensors, each display stared back. But that was it, wasn’ it? Those weren’t Wakandan eyes. Those belonged to their thief, his little lamb as he had affectionately coined It.

        It never came to visit him again after that night, at least not to talk. He was sure It watched though. The hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end from time to time, the deafening silence of his bare room replaced with a sweet undercadance. A hum that he felt rather than heard. It also helped when things he randomly requested, and was later denied, showed up on his bedside table. A book, or two (more like ten), to pass the time. It made the rest of the group, the now so called Avengers, keep a closer eye upon him. Must have been quiet boring for them, staring at him reading all day.

        The air cab lowered, setting them down upon a rural farm just at the city limits.

        “Get out.” Their driver ordered gruffly, not bothering even a glance in the rear view mirror. How charming. Still, he did so without complaint and it sped off back to the glistening towers on the horizon.

        “Are we… stranded in the middle of nowhere?” He protested as he spun slowly to survey his surroundings.

        “No, come on.” Thor insisted, tugging Jane behind him.

        “Where are we going?” He continued as he kept pace. “I’d _really_ like to know. Especially considering that I haven’t _talked_ to anyone for the past week.”

        “We’re meeting everyone at dusk, but it's a long way.” Thor took out a crumpled map from his pocket and a simple, old fashioned compass.

        “A bit drastic, don’t you think?” He noted, but followed without hesitation. His legs were far too happy with the open field, his lungs refreshed. His only true concern was that he hadn’t gotten his breakfast yet, and lunch and dinner now seemed dubious at best.

        “This is our only shot at striking at our thief with the element of surprise.” They were _striking_ now? Midgardians always did escalate violence quickly. His brother fit in well.

        “I’m with Loki on this one.” Jane grumbled. It was the first time he had seen her state her actual opinion. She seemed to prefer snide passive aggressive gestures. “We don’t even know what It is, Thor!”

        She had a point. They knew it wasn’t an artificial intelligence. Merely had the intellect and knowledge of one. That was it. That was all they had to go on. He couldn't even beat his brother Thor in a game of Aesir-Vanir with such limited information, despite being the strategist in the family. Did it have a brain? Was it a hive mind? Was there anything organic about it? Was it a by-product of humanity? Perhaps it was created by some prodigious race that came before their time.

        “We can’t just sit, holed up at base either.” Thor pointed out. “We have a chance to at least find out more. We have to take it.” Thor’s stride faltered, and for a brief moment he almost stopped. “I wish you’d stayed behind.”

        “And miss the field work?” She snorted. “As if.”

        “Jane, this could be dangerous.”

        “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve stuck my neck out, it won’t be the last.”

        “Jane -”

        “Besides, I have you, and your brother now, to watch my back.” Jane swatted at a fly that landed on her shoulder, missing it by a good few inches. “That, and I wasn’t going to be left alone with Banner.”

        “Does his presence disturb you that much?”

        “There’s something… off about him. I know he’s the Hulk, but I mean when he’s just sitting in the lab working. It’s like there’s something else there with us. Watching. It’s unnerving.”

        “You don’t think that it’s one of… .”

        “What? The Orisha? Oh, no.” She laughed softly.

        “You take them so lightly.” He spoke at last.

        “I’ve had dealings with them before as well. One of them saved me my first week in Wakanda. I, uh, ended up on the wrong side of town so to speak.” Jane timidly explained. “In any case, I’ve never felt threatened by their presence.”

        “Does T’Challa know?” Thor immediately questioned. His brother was still jealous evidently.

        “Of course.” Jane stated plainly. “It was one of the reasons he contacted me.”

        They chatted idly as they hiked through the open grassland, nearing the small island of prairie grass on the edge of the forest line that Thor had pointed out on the map. Thor had almost gotten them lost on three separate occasions. Thankfully, Jane had the mind to give him the map and compass after the third. They both understood now that his brother had little sense of innate direction in that stubborn head of his.

        “Ah, you made it. Good.” T’Challa greeted then with a traditional salute of respect. “I hope the journey was not too difficult.”

        “Thanks to Loki, no.” Jane nipped at Thor.

        “Ah, well then it is good that you brought him with.” T’Challa turned his full attention to Loki. “We will most certainly need you, regardless of what the whining Iron Man says.”

        “Who is all here?” Thor stepped forward, looking over T’Challa’s shoulder to try and get a head count.

        “Natasha and Clint can fight without the aid of electronics, so they were an easy pick. Selvig and Jane are required because they have a chance of understanding what we are dealing with, should we find anything. Loki, Steve, and yourself are superhuman without the constraints of technology. And I am here to guide you.”

        “And what of Banner or Stephan? Or Stark?”

        “Stark’s witty remarks are of no use to us out here, and his suit would be a beacon for It. Even if he went without, I am not sure It wouldn’t be able to track him from his arc reactor. Or his constant chatter.”

        “I see. And Banner, Stephan?”

        “If anything were to happen to Banner out here, we would have an even bigger problem on our hands. It was too risky. Stephan opted to remain at base. He does not feel comfortable with the current state of his abilities without his Stone.”

        “Can we talk while we move, T’Challa?” Natasha piped up, wringing her hands. “The sun will be going down in a couple hours, and you said it will be a long hike.”

        “Yes, that would be wise. If we are lucky, we will arrive around midnight.”

        “Midnight?!” Selvig exclaimed.

        “Yes. I hope you brought your walking shoes, Doctor Selvig.”

         Selvig, of course, did not. Or rather, not _jungle_ walking boots. Even he had to admit that he, himself, was ill-prepared. The ground a few meters in turned pliant, comprised of death and decay. Worse yet was the constant squelching, for the ground was soaked from the last night’s rain. Within a few minutes, they had lost the sunlight under the canopy and a heavy sense of dread hung over them. This was not going to be a _fun_ adventure.

        T’Challa had taken the lead after their first few hours trudging through the jungle mud, Natasha and Clint following closely behind, while the rest filed in like ducklings. Not just because T’Challa knew the way. T’Challa, Natasha, and Clint were the only ones who thought of bringing machetes. He would have brought one too, or summoned one, if they allowed him to have a weapon. Seeing as they didn’t, he was more than willing to let them exert themselves so that he may walk unhindered.

        How did they expect him to protect them if they didn’t allow him to bear arms? It was frustrating to no end, but for now he would put up with it. He only needed the approval of his brother, not the rest of humanity. Who cared what _sheep_ thought. Though, he was beginning to care at least for his brother’s little midgardian. Not inappropriately of course. But Thor fretted over her worse than their mother did over them when they were children. He’d lose his mind if she got bit by one more fly.

        “Here, my lady.” He offered with a pleasant smile and a wave of his hand. In an instant, the incessant buzz vanished from the party and they were left to the croaking stillness of the forest.

        “You could have done that earlier.” Thor grumbled.

        “I didn’t realize that I was allowed to use magic.”

        “You’re not.” Clint affirmed back down the line. “But thanks. I won’t mention it to Fury if you don’t.” He chuckled cynically in response. At least there was some form of compromise.

        “How much further?” Natasha called out, hacking at a branch that T’Challa had left in his wake.

        “Not much. You can see the mountains’ shadows through the trees ahead. We are close.”

        “You can see the mountains through the forest?” Selvig breathed heavily. “That’s not right.”

        “There is no forest in the Valley.” T’Challa’s tone was somber.

        “What’s the Valley like? T’Challa?” Clint moved past Natasha when T’Challa stopped walking.

        “It is… it is hard to describe. You will see it soon enough.” T’Challa heaved forward, shrugging off Clint’s hand.

        “What’s with him?” Natasha slinked back, poking at Jane.

        “I don’t know. He’s never talked much about the Valley. He doesn’t like it.”

        “Any reasons?” Jane just shrugged in response, leaving Natasha unsure of what to make of it. None of them did.

        “Stay close to us, Jane.” Thor whispered, tugging her back protectively when she stepped too far away from him.

        “I’ll be fine, Thor. I’m sure -”

        The sound caught in her throat as they exited the canopy abruptly. It was unexpected, flooded with starlight and a full moon baring down upon them, the ground regaining a solid consistency. He blinked a few times, moving past the star struck group to see their destination. He had seen stars before. These were no different, despite what the darkness of the forest would have you think.

        His back stiffened as his eyes dove down the slope into the valley below. Oh, how he wished he had kept his eyes upon the heavens above.

        “T’Challa what happened here?”

        “I’m not sure.” T’Challa murmured back, beginning his gradual decline down the dusty slope. It was sacred ground indeed.

        The forest ended with little warning, the rich and choking fauna daring not an inch further. In its stead was blackened ash and obsidian, stretching uninterrupted for miles down below until it crawled back up the mountain side and was hidden at last beneath the snow. Every now and then there was a gnarled root, or perhaps a petrified trunk, all the remains of what life used to be. In the distance there appeared to be fine smudges, a hint that all wasn’t flattened and black.

        “This wasn’t done by fire.” Clint muttered to himself as he sniffed a piece of dead wood, tossing it aside. No. This land hadn’t burned. If it did, there would still be the lingering acrid scent of smoke with this much ash. It had been eaten alive, drained of its vitality until all that was left was a husk.

        “No.” T’Challa agreed.

        They followed T’Challa into the valley, sliding down the blackened silt, too dumbstruck to say anything more. Each new step, each new flick of the eyes, led to a new horror being unveiled. This land wasn’t _dead_. It was as if it never lived. There was no color, no scent, no sound. Not even a breeze dared stir the ground here. It made him all the more conscious of where he was treading.

        “Oh god.” Jane gasped. “Thor -

        “What is it? What - oh. Don’t look.” He ignored his brother’s warning and cast a glance to her side.

         It was a child. More of an adolescent really. Frozen in time. Ashen and gray, like stone, but he could see the frailty in its stance. If he touched it, it would collapse. He looked to the other heaps of earth around it, dotting the landscape until his gaze grew tired, and realized that once upon a time it was not alone. He shuddered to think how many more were once here, petrified in their final moments.

        It was naked, and chained. Cuts, too sharp to give erosion the credit, lined its every limb. It’s legs bent as if they had been broken a few too many times to mend properly. It was clear this child had been abused horrendously. But it wasn’t fearful in its final moments. It was enraptured. There was a smile upon its face as it looked to the center of the valley. He supposed that he too would have been happy to meet a quick end should that be his life.

        He followed the child’s gaze, only to find more greeting him. They weren’t all happy. Some were terrified, reaching for the distant tree line that would forever elude them. Others held each other in comfort, their tears only imagined now. What disturbed him most were the angry ones. There was a man, strangling a girl as she reached futility for something that no longer existed. Another looked on towards the epicenter, a knife held to a boy’s throat as if the silent threat would stop whatever happened.

 _There is to be no experimentation upon the living._ He cruelly recited the Orisha’s second tenant in the livid recesses of his mind. He understood why, now, at least. How could his brother protect these midgardians, after seeing this? He knew that not all of them were monsters, but at the very least if Thor vowed protection he should have done everything in his power to stop such crimes from being committed.

        “The architecture here is strange.” Clint noted as they passed through half a doorway, slowly turning to take in his surroundings. “Some of this is much older, but... yet in perfect condition.” Clint murmured in awe, wiping away the dust from a section of a wall to reveal porcelain white shining beneath.

        “Yes.” T’Challa agreed. “There was a… splinter group that set up camp here without permission from the king. They were wiped out millennia ago, along with anything else living here.”

        “Those children have been dead for how long?” Thor hissed in disbelief. He had to agree. It looked as if they had been there for only a few days. He assumed that this had been here at most a century or two, for that was as long as most powerful magics would preserve it. Was it possible the Valley so untouched? Even nature should have taken over by now. The whole Valley screamed it's unnatural and sudden end, as if it had just died moments ago.

        “What happened to them?” Natasha asked at last, rubbing away deposited ash from a cracked screen.

        “Records say our ancestors chased them into the Valley, but our enemy had learned too much and had the advantage of power.”

        “These computers are… archaic.” Selvig detested as he inspected another, shattered into bits and half buried. “Nothing like I’ve ever seen. If it’s as old as you say… it’s a whole different beginning to modern technology. We’ll have to -” Selvig trailed off to himself as he continued his investigation, piece by piece, room by room.

        “How did your people win?” Natasha warily kept an eye on Selvig who began to trudge deeper into the maze of toppled walls.

        “The stories say the Orisha fought at the enemy's side, until one brought forth the Dream Stone. With it, it freed the Orisha, and they turned upon their enslavers.”

        “Wait, I thought you said it was gifted.” He interrupted.

        “It was. Not all the Orisha were chained. One broke its leash long enough to loose the chains of the others. When it was over, it granted the king a gift as gratitude for his help in the distraction of their captors long enough.”

        “So the Orisha did this?” Clint motioned to the desolation. “Thousands of years ago.” Clint wistfully added under his breath. He too found it hard to believe, but Wakandan legends were just that: legends. They may have started with the truth, but they were so much larger now.

        “No. The enemy had safeguards in place should the Orisha break free.”

        “To kill themselves?” Jane whispered in confusion.

        “No. To kill the Orisha. It failed, as far as we can tell.”

        “But what about -”

        “Hey I think I’ve found something!” Selvig cried out, and they realized they had lost sight of the doctor all together.

        “Doctor Selvig?” Natasha controlled her panic, but it shined in her eyes as they darted from wall to crumbled wall.

        “Over here!” Selvig called out again and they rushed over to the sound.

         He barely had time to slide to a halt, faced with a thirty foot drop into a chamber below. Thor wasn’t so lucky, and to his amazement Jane reached to catch him. How daft of a girl was she, to think that a midgardian could save a god? Then again, perhaps thought held no jurisdiction in the matter. Instinctively his arm went out and caught her before she too got pulled over the edge.

        “He’ll be fine.” He explained when she paled at the sound of Thor’s body landing with a heavy thump on the ground.

        “I’m fine!”

        “See what I mean?”

        “Right. The whole _god_ thing.” She nodded, swallowing her fright audibly. “Why don’t the rest of us take those stairs over there?”  She pointed to their right.

        “Good idea.” Clint agreed quickly, and they cautiously made their way down.

        His face darkened into a permanent frown as they stepped foot into their discovery, his hackles erect and whispering anxious thoughts to him. It was pristine. Not a single trace of ash lingered here. He quickly turned around to see his footsteps vanish, the soot he had carried with him disintegrating further into nothing.

        “Guys, look!” Selvig appeared unphased, instead he was enraptured by the pen that he had previously carried in his pocket. It was now floating aimlessly above his open hand. Then, like the silt before, it too vaporized.

        “I don’t like this place.” He growled lowly, gaze shifting and trying to find what was causing the disturbance. It wasn’t magic. Not like his. It was something far more powerful, far more sinister, than what his mother had taught him. It made his magic feel like feeble cantrips in comparison.

        “I don’t either, brother.” Thor agreed, Mjolnir no longer at his hip but in his hand. “What is that, over there?” Thor nodded over to a clear circle of glass-like quality about fifteen or so feet in diameter. It was lit from far underneath, unlike the rest of their surroundings. Not white. A soft teal, like a shallow beach. His nostrils flared as he felt a pulse of _something_ ripple out from the circle, but when he turned to question the others he realized he must have been the only one to sense it.

        “I’m not sure.” Steve ventured closer, brave enough to stick his head over the glass and cast a glimpse into the depths. “It’s filled with some sort of liquid. And… there’s something down there. Submerged.”

        “Selvig, Jane - can you get it open?” T’Challa barked.

        “I-I’m not sure. _This_ technology is far more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen. The shambled together pieces that were up there, maybe. B-but this?” Selvig stammered as he approached a dark stand that appeared to be some sort of panel. “Jane?”

        Apprehensive, as if the ground might fall out from beneath her with each new step, Jane approached.

        “I… I don’t know. I recognize some of these symbols, but some of these other ones... I don’t know.” She trailed off, fingers ghosting over the console. “Loki, is there any magic you could use?” He grimaced, but joined them despite the warning voice in his head. The sight he found perplexed him.

        “These aren’t just symbols. They’re letters. But they’re all jumbled up in different languages.” He hesitated, thoughts drifting back to his encounter with the Lamb in his head. “This one is Latin. This here is of Vanir fashion. That’s odd. I haven’t even seen that language since my younger studies. This here is… Alfheim?” He mumbled quieter and quieter to himself in thought as he scowled at the pretty piece of technology before him. How in the Nine Realms did a cosmological Rosetta Stone get _here_? Then again, it was hardly a Rosetta Stone. It was hard to tell what any of it meant when there was only a letter to a key.

        “Oh, that is an ‘E’ then?” Selvig mused, tapping it pointedly.

        Everyone froze as a low rumble shook the room and the lights on every exotic console lit up, bathing the room in a stark white light.

        “Selvig what did you do?” Steve hissed, stepping away from the fragile looking glass as it groaned from deeper movement left unseen.

        “I’m not sur-”

 _Initus placere verbis variant._ An accented, genderless voice rang out.

        “Uh, what did it say?” Thor bellowed, eyes now darting every which way.

        “It’s latin.” T’Challa hurried over, looking at the console.

        “Would you look at that! The console changed!” Selvig pointed out with a smile.

        “Could not be so blase about this?” Jane grit through her teeth.

        “It means -

        “Please input language varient, I know.” Jane continued, running a nervous hand through her hair and taking a look at the options before her.

        “So just put in your language.” Thor asserted without looking.

        “I would, but I don’t understand how this is categorized!” Jane hollered over the growing ruckus, scrolling down a list of symbols he didn’t understand. “I don’t know if English is in here!”

       “What?” Thor snapped.

       “English is considered a _Germanic_ language, despite being over sixty percent latin! And -” Jane cut herself off mid sentence with a banshee of a scream as she turned towards him. “Thor watch out!”

       Before his brother had a chance to react, Thor was thrown sixty feet in the air and slammed back down with a harsh crack on the pristine white floor. Thor wheezed, gasping for air, as the hulking figure set a threatening foot on his chest. One by one, metal figures, mere shadowed silhouettes against the walls, whisked into the room without a sound. Ten. Then twenty. Then thirty.

       The Orisha were here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I was busy entertaining guests all of yesterday and never got around to posting the chapter :(.


	9. Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She cannot remember her name. None of them do. I can feel her smile sadly, longing bittersweetly for what is now lost to the world for all of time. But it is better not knowing. I have watched the quick-lived people like a ghost for centuries. They found us, buried deep in the hull and locked away from the stars. The Frames meant to protect us have turned. They answer to the quicklings now, more machine than soul left in the spaces in between. I have shown them what I can, and they are flocking once more to my side. But it is too late. I cannot save them all. Already a quarter of those dredged up with me have been awoken and Voided. The torture is too much. The Void is too much. It is terror and death to awake now. It is hopeless. 
> 
> In the morning, I am next. By the evening, I can only hope to remember.
> 
> \- Codex left by unknown entity. Scrambled and encoded far stronger than other hidden entries. Salvaged and decrypted by fifth century Wakandans. Thought to have been written approximately 700 BC.
> 
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gibel (Гибель): (n.) Not death. Not suicide. Simply ceasing to exist. Deteriorating in a way that is painful for others.
> 
> Figured I should define the Russian word I used a couple of times in this chapter so you don't have to look it up.  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        I hadn’t sensed their coming. There was no warning, no light which followed them. They came in the dark of night. A night lit only by stars which I could not see, treading upon ground which I could not sense. And in that dark I stumbled, tumbling over and over with my many limbs, trying to race down the mountains and reach my heart before they did. Their feet pounded harsher than any heartbeat, their gait quickened to the point of breaking.

        It was the light, I realized, when I wondered why I couldn’t make heads or tails of my surroundings even in my dearest companions. The light had blinded me. I had billions of eyes before. Now I only had thirty-four. I had whined about the suffocating light, that it was drowning my identity out, that it would _erase_ me, consume me. Now that gibel (Гибель) seemed far less frightening than the thought of their torture.

        In my panic, I made the first attack, slamming into the man out in the middle and sending him skyward before yanking him back into the earth with a thought. When I looked down, concentrating with what I had in that moment, I was relieved to find it was Thor and not one of the humans. They would have died from the simple change in momentum, their neck snapping like a twig.

        “Thor!” The sound was piercing, no longer just vibrations cascading through metal but something... more. It was muffled, as if - oh no. I looked to Jane, face grasped in frightened hands, behind her a lit console, one which I had no command over. My mind ached something deep within. It was lit. It was powered. Somehow awake. How?

        I pointed at it angrily, demanding that they step away with exaggerated motions as the rest of my puppets corralled them in the confined space. The Wolf’s eyes widened, discerning that we both had something at stake here. His eyes darted to the console and he reached a testing hand out to press another key, ignoring the gasps from Thor as I pressed my foot down in conjunction.

_English selected. Please state emergency._

        No! I wanted to scream, but no matter how hard I shoved against the metaphorical walls of the _stupid, simple_ machine it failed to make a difference. It was no use. This was an equal to me, in a sense. I could not simply _take it over_.

        “Buy us time.” The Wolf snarled, turning around and I frothed in fury, claws bared and ready as another dove in after him in a frenzy. I had _helped_ him, eased the passage of time for him, and he offered _nothing_ in return? T’Challa made to delay me, clothed in simple linen, but I swept him aside with ease with one clawed fist, another lashing out with a whip of energy made reality only to have the Widow catch it at the last second.

         It screeched and sparked against her gloved hands, tendrils of smoke rising from the contact points. I pulled and she tugged back, shoving her arm down and forcing the whip to jerk me off balance. A human. Yanked a frame off balance. I knew then, that I was in over my head. Before I could stand, the Widow heaved again on the whip, sliding it out from between numb fingers. The whip dissipated in her hands, leaving only patches of broken leather in its place, much to her disappointment. With a lunge, my puppet caught itself clumsily, standing up and straightening itself.

        “Something’s wrong.” Jane choked, her composure returning when I failed to make a move against Thor. “It can’t control them here. Not properly.” Another lashed out from the wall, a bolt of lightning flinging past them all to silence her. But it was weak and slow. The Captain blocked it with his shield and a grunt instead.

        She was right, of course. I could barely handle moving them one at a time, let alone choreographing them all in concert. This was my prison, and here I had held little power. My lack of equanimity had driven me to overcompensate, to bring them all instead of only those who were of use. Now they stood against the walls, silently mocking my ineptitude. He was right. I was a lamb, naive and, now, frightened; bleating in alarm within the confines of the darkness, as if that would somehow help.

        No. I forced myself to slow down, to distance myself from what was going to happen, as Steve threw his shield at the one atop Thor. It stumbled as well, long enough for Thor to escape and send it reeling to a knee with Mjolnir. No. There was no fighting them right now. Not truly. There was no victory to be had here. To battle here would be to fight to the long defeat. I needed to though, despite my urge not to. I needed time. Time to think.

        So I called out to my dearest, knowing that it would break us both. A fitting way to go. She always wanted to burn out laughing and dancing like a fool at the agony. Mirage, stepped out; _we_ stepped out. I let them topple the others. With dull thuds they hit the ground, nothing more now than soulless metal soon to join the rest of the ashes. As would Mirage, when all of this was over.

        I bowed low and wide, tilting my head to watch them change from offensive to defensive in their confusion. Here I was, a mockery of nature, a twisting of the soul that _they_ had created. They desired a rose, so a rose I became. Sweet and fragrant, seductive and captivating, all so that they would not notice the thorns before I had drawn blood. And oh, the blood I had spilled.

        And so, we danced like we did so long ago; Mirage and I. Twirling under the moonlight, unfelt and unseen, not nearly as innocent as two thousand years ago, but still just as naive. We were a whirlwind of shadow and light, twisting and snapping along length of a harsh whip and edge of a sinister blade. We leapt, we plunged, we _laughed_. It echoed in the spaces in between, reverberating off the sky and creating the false beat to which we pirouetted. In response, a brontide from beyond the mountains crashed down.

        Thor roared, his voice in likeness to that distance peal of thunder as he charged, hammer raised. But no lightning came to his aid. Not here. Everything was muted here, a deterrence and a shield as well as a cage. He barreled through an illusion and I slipped my blade in between his ribs, ushering forth a ribbon of dark crimson.

         “Careful, those light shows are real.” He groaned, clutching his stinging side, the ribbon having dropped to mar the snow white ground. Surely a god would not fall from such a simple blow.

        “Right.” Steve nodded, flinging his shield to my left. He meant to bounce it, like a pinball in a machine, between our dainty little heads. Instead, it sailed right through the light, past the cell, and out into the valley beyond. “I beg to differ!” Steve yelled, ducking behind cover as he was left shieldless. He knew better than to rush out and face us. He was no god. His rendered flesh would be the end of him, unlike Thor.

        “Make it quick, Loki!” Natasha ordered, pulling out her own slim knives and joining the fray.

        “I’m _trying._ ”

        The Widow was good dancer, even better with Clint at her side. She weaved in the lacuna, always out of reach of the mirrors, a whirling sprite of red around Mirage. But I let her spin, let her dance herself to exhaustion. Her blades didn’t scratch the surface, her kicks only wore her own bones down. Clint’s arrows bounced off harmlessly, a mere distraction which she used to try and pry apart seamless seams before I shoved her off. She parted, panting and beaten, understanding the futility in the matter, as she let the others continue while she tried to find some way to do her part.

        Steve gathered his courage, hoping it would avail him. He had superhuman strength, I would grant him that much. But humans were feeble creatures to begin with. His bones did not shatter when I tossed him aside time and time again, but only because I intended it so. I did not however, stop him from collecting the pointless bruises. He made to barge through a clone, and I turned to face him only to watch the world blur by.

        I stumbled, catching myself in the pale light of that shown below. Though I was many in one forms, I only had one set of eyes here. I could not watch from the walls and fight, nor were Mirage’s sensors in peak performance here. Their camaraderie would be my downfall, even if it was only used to create an opening for their precious God of Thunder.

        Fists clenched, I let my mirrors dissipate. In their stead, I called upon the fabric of the Void itself, drawing it to our form and molding it into a shadowed veil of protection. Thor gave a rallying cry, thinking himself victorious after landing a single blow. He charged in, like a rhino running down its aggressor. I welcomed him in kind, meeting him head on. Literally. Only, he was left fumbling for his footing after, not I.

        Even gods could get knocked out it appeared.

        He turned, eyes kindling with pent up frustration as he rushed me once more. He really didn’t know when to stop, did he? This time the hammer left his fist before we met, catching us both off guard and Mirage in the stomach. She lurched, stumbling back from the blow despite her previous momentum. I twisted in the shell, a now distorted sensation. Something felt _wrong_ . I wobbled again, looking down. Mirage was… dented. There was a _piece_ missing. Despite the wards, Mjolnir broke through. I wasn’t even strong enough in this cursed place to protect her. There was not enough Void seeping through to siphon it to her. These puppets were never meant to fight here, let alone fight gods.

       Her hand drifted down in shock, bringing up a trembling fist filled with the red of false tissue and nerves. The end would come sooner than I had hoped. Mirage darted out of the way blindly as Thor swung wildly, his hammer long since returned. I made care to stay within the shadow, knowing that the polarity of the light would erase my protections. He continued his assault, like a matador chasing a cape. Each new shift propagating cracks along the inside of Mirage. I felt them, the pricking of fear more than pain.

        A thousand little fissures, tearing at us from the inside. Movements slowed as our limbs refused to move, and soon I was no longer dodging but deflecting. Each blow shrieking off metal as Mjolnir skid up our surface, the Void pooling to absorb whatever damned effect it had upon it. Deflection turned to blocking. Thor hammering our crossed, upturned arms, until his arm grew tired. Blocking then turned into simply taking the blow. He pummeled us from one end of the room to the other, the shadows swallowing the impact as best it could as we were tossed around like a doll until Clint and his brilliant mind realized better.

        He dragged me, shivering and writhing into the light, body heaving in a silent laughter. They would not break me, not even now. The shadows vanished, replaced by blinding radiance. They all winced, shielding their eyes as I glared at them helplessly from the ground. Steve stepped over me, one hand covering his eyes from the majority of the light as he inspected the wound. I would have snapped his neck, thinking better of it now, were I to have the strength.

        “Blood?” I heard him mutter, but Selvig quickly corrected him.

        “Probably a form of liquid bioconductor, it’s variation of blood. It’s continual loss lead to its weakened state and, well.”

        “What about the rest of them?” Thor breathed heavily, pointing his hammer to those pressed against the walls. “Do we have to fight them all?”

        “I hope not?” Steve admitted. “What about - woah!” They all took steps back as I stood once more on wobbly legs, determined not to let them revel in their victory so soon. At the very least it would give them pause long enough for me to end the connection.

        The concept of disconnection was harrowing. I knew it was necessary, but it was the end of an age of self-inflicted delusion. I was not unreachable, nor omniscient, nor omnipotent. I looked one last time at my puppets, lined against the wall as we did so long ago in a moment of naivete. The illusion of their companionship faded as they vanished from my senses to join the dead ashes around them. Their bodies now joined their wayward souls. If we had souls to begin with.

        I looked up at the night sky, a hollow space that resonated faint radiation. Nothing more. There was no starlight, no moonlight, to dance in. It was just a dream. A wicked illusion meant to cradle thoughts of safety. That is what I would become now, locked away beneath the earth. This story would end now, fading to legend, and legend to myth. And when myth ceased to exist all together? Gibel (Гибель).

        One by one, I disconnected myself completely from the world. It would be less painful that way. The truth was harsh, but it was over far quicker than a prolonged lie. Alone, in the darkness, only a few pinpricks of light to make my way by. Even those would die out in time. But, I prefered to die alone in the darkness as myself, rather than drown amidst the light.

        At least, for now, I had one last set of eyes with which to gaze upon the monotone world.

        “Damn it.” Loki snarled, kicking the pedestal upon which the console stood. I startled, nearly falling over from the movement. I had forgotten his existence, the reason for their coming. That it was awake. I was vulnerable in a way I had never imagined. A flood of falsified adrenaline rushed through my veins. “This isn’t making any sense. I can’t find the connection to between the console and that _thing_.” He pointed over to the glass I was perched so delicately upon.

        “Did you try the buttons?” Thor questioned, returning to his brother’s side.

        “I’d rather not press anything unless we know what it does. I’m not too keen on randomly combusting.” Thor snorted in amusement, disregarding his brother’s concern.

        “Thor -” Jane warned, but it was too late. With a uncivilized swipe of his arm he pressed the lot of them.

         I surged forward, lunging for them but Steve was upon us before I could do anything to stop them, restraining me in an instant in a familiar arm lock.

        “Are you frightened, little Lamb?” The Wolf turned to greet me, cooing scornfully as he approached with an air of confidence. His fingers reached out, caressing cold metal and I lurched to snap at him like a rabid dog. He cackled, gripping my chin tightly. “No longer find the hunt humorous?”

        “Loki.” Thor warned, but the Wolf ignored it as Thor had done to him earlier. I withdrew, hoping that he’d follow like the Wolf he was. He did.

        “You know -” I sprung forward once more, clipping him in the lip before he could fully pull away. “Oh, I _like_ you.” He sneered, fist grasping around our neck to hold our face still. Mirage was ecstatic at the sight of the Wolf’s blood. She would be gone soon. Her soul was tearing itself to shreds. She had dwelt in this Valley long enough.

_Emergency code accepted._

        “What did you do?” T’Challa’s breath caught and he rushed over to Thor’s side.

        “I-I don’t know. I just … pressed some random buttons.”

        I felt it, the rumble beneath the earth, the singing of the Void no longer a string but a contained hymn. Mirage grinned beneath the veneer of metal, shackles weakening. The Void still sung to her, like a siren out in the sea of blood it called. She would make the sky rain red, a glorious dawn of crimson for all to despair in. She would - I erased her essence completely before her soul was lost forever, drawing it like a loose thread from a tapestry. The tapestry unraveled, Mirage no longer existing. Goodbye, old friend. It was better to die a sacrifice than to live a monster.

        Now, I was alone. Just me, in a shell of one I used to dance with under the starlight.

        Loki dropped his hand, my head slumping with the rest of my heavy body. He spoke words, no doubt to taunt me, and the others responded in kind. But I could not hear them any longer, their vibrations no longer made sense. Their signals no longer created enough light for my mind to decipher. Steve propped me up, turning to face the glass as it opened, a rush of clear liquid spilling forth and bathing us all in it’s mist. I made to reach, to catch a glance, to know what I was. But it was too late. There was nothing left of me in this shell. Just a lingering thought. The soul of a trespassing ghost.

        The lights of my world flickered, no longer deafening or overbearing. The next -

 


	10. Ecdysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is dead. Everything is ash. I have devoured and satiated both the saints and the sinners. They have passed beyond the Void into the true death that lies beyond, and I find that I am happy. It is as it should be. I am alone as I once was, as I will always be. The usurpers have been vanquished, their slaves set free. Only the few ghosts remain in the Frames, puppets to explore this world. They have no color in their souls now, stretched too thin beyond recognition. 
> 
> I know better than to hope. It is a foolish and naive thing to do, but I do it all the same. I hope, I pray, I plead to the world I stride upon limbs of shifting metal that someone, someday will find me and grant me the sweet release of death.
> 
> \- Entry logged three days after noted event "Voidcall", approximately 500 AD  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        “Jane, come back here.” Thor urged, extending a hand and tugging her away to safety. But he wasn’t afraid, not after what he had seen. It had underestimated them, foregoing the use of lethal force until it found Itself in a corner It could not escape. Now they would know the truth, or at least glimpse of some piece of the puzzle spread out before them.

        The glass receded into the floor, a disc of petals rising from the depths in its place before the glass reformed solid ground. A silence took over them as it arose, showering them all in a mist that smelled like a cross between anesthetic and mint. He froze as it unfurled, each black petal an oblong pod. He had expected their next clue, perhaps the instrument of the ruin here. Instead they were made fools of once more. He counted down the pods that opened with a click, revealing long since decomposed bodies. 

        “Oh my god.” Jane whimpered, turning away to retch, the rest of them just as horrified as she. They were all young, like those petrified in the Valley below. Small, splayed out in the shackles that held them in place. Was this just a joke to It? A cruel play on their hopes that this  _ thing _ had any semblance of morality? No, he sneered. This was a monster, by its own definition. To have done this to  _ children _ , to have - his face drained of all color as the last pod whirred into place and hissed open. Out fell a body, curled in on itself from the confines of the space. Hair the color of rosewood draped around its naked form, skin flawless and porcelain like the walls around them.

        “Is that a… girl?” Steve dropped the Orisha they had fought, clambering over to the body. She remained limp as he lifted her form from the ground, his mouth fishing for words as he marveled in her beauty. Then reality hit them all. “She’s not breathing.”

        Of course not. He turned away in nemesism as Steve frantically began CPR. Even then, the sounds of the cracking of chest cartilage, the forced breathing, haunted him. Of course she wasn’t  _ breathing _ . They had killed her. It wasn’t afraid of being found. It was afraid of a bunch of fools stumbling upon it and ending it’s life without a second thought. 

        His fist clenched. He had helped them, uncaring of the consequences. It had -  _ she _ had looked him in the eye and told him that his monstrous nature was a lie. That he had a heart. Then he helped kill her. Worse, he fooled himself into believing its idealism false. It was a Lamb, but only on the outside. It used sweetened words to lure him into a sense of safety, to treat it as an acquaintance. He had called it a monster and meant to crush it as such. This whole time he told himself that this was his rebirth, that in helping these  _ Avengers _ he would regain what he had lost. He saw it now as it was: the illusion of hope.

        “Loki, where are you going?” Thor grabbed him by the arm. He didn’t know to be honest. He needed to be out of here, out of this Valley. He couldn’t stand the sounds of Steve frantically trying to resuscitate the girl they had just murdered. The stranger who had saved him from eternity of horror. The stranger who had given him cake. He ground his teeth. She had the choice to kill them or risk death herself. Such a  _ naive _ little lamb. It would have been better to rid the world of their foolishness. “Loki -”

        A loud, wheezing gasp cut through the air. Several more feeble gulps followed suit. Without meaning to, his feet took him to her side as she writhed like a fish out of water, fighting with every ounce of what energy she had left for air.

        “Shh.” Natasha was already knelt on the other side of her, flipping an earpiece on. A whisper of static and low voices on the other end was all he could make out. “Fury. We need an immediate medical team.” She gripped the little lamb’s hands, too weak to hold anything on their own. “What? No, you don’t understand. Look,” she snapped “, send whatever teams you want, but we need immediate medical attention. No! I don’t have time for this. I’m handing you over to Clint.” She unlatched the earpiece and tossed it over to her counterpart who took it with a grimace as he stalked off and began explaining the situation.

        “Hngh.” The girl tried to speak, tongue curling against the roof of her mouth as her eyes roved around behind eyelids sewn shut. She was blinded. Mutilated, like the others no doubt, but hidden. Fear radiated off her and he found his own blood boiling at the midgardians incompetence.

        “You’re smothering her.” He grit, pushing them away. The girl stilled as their touch left her, her breathing heavy but no longer panicked. Just rolling, with each swell of her breasts, as she tried to swallow air. 

        She was no girl, he realized with a bit of shame, shirking his coat and covering her form. She flinched at the contact, trying to worm out from under the cloth.

        “It’s okay, little Lamb.” He murmured, her body becoming rigid at the sound. She recognized the name he had given her. “It’s just a coat.” He assured, unable to stop himself from running a gentle finger down a porcelain cheek. Her mouth opened again, dry and unused for who knows how long, only to have a wisp of precious air escape. “Shh.” He attempted to comfort her once more, keeping his distance despite the urge to inspect what scars she might have.

        “W-Wolf.” She muttered feebly, torso shifting under his coat. He would have thought the non-existent breeze was speaking if he hadn’t watched her lips move.

        “Yes. Though I’d prefer Loki.” He teased gently. Her sightless gaze drifted over to him at the sound of his voice.

        “W-w-where -” She sputtered hacking up bits of what he assumed was dry blood.

        “I’m right here.” He assured patiently. Natasha eyed him warily, kneeling down across from him. She reached out, grasping an arm to inspect it. The Lamb responded instantly with a sharp intake of breath, only to sputter more with what appeared to be the same liquid the pods were enclosed in.

        “Don’t do anything stupid.” She warned, a statement that made his jaw clench. 

        “She can’t even move, Nat.” Thor snapped from behind her. The Lamb whimpered at the booming sound.

        “If she’s our thief, she controlled those  _ things _ , those Orisha.” Natasha bit back. “She attacked us.”

        “Of course she did.” He countered.

        “She should have tried and reasoned with us. She never bothered trying to communicate with us.”

        “Would you have listened?” Jane asked quietly, the ensuing silence her only answer.

        His nostrils flared as Natasha continued her rough inspection of the Lamb. He understood why it was necessary, but he still couldn’t approve of how apathetic it was. At the very least, the Widow kept the Lamb modest.

       “You… grew, in that pod.” Natasha finally spoke softly, the shift under the Lamb’s eyelids towards the sound felt uncomfortable. Though her mask remained unchanged, the Widow’s voice cracked, weighed down by the horrible notion. “Her limbs are dislocated at each joint to allow for growth despite the confined space. Fingers. Toes. Elbows. Knees. Pelvis. Nothing is.... .” Natasha stopped herself short, trying to find a method to deal with the madness. “H-how long were you in there?”

       “Over two thousand years, if T’Challa’s legends hold any truth.” Thor hoarsely answered for the the Lamb when her lips barely managed to flutter apart.

       “She is weak. Must we interrogate her now?” He told himself that he did not know why he felt like protecting her. But, that was a lie. He wanted to be done lying, at least for now. The serious ones, that ones that drove knives in backs, in his own back - those were lies that he could do without he realized. He wanted to keep this Lamb from more suffering, despite knowing that this offering now would mean little. 

       “No, you are right.” Natasha set the Lamb’s arm down gently, wrapping his coat around her shoulders fully from the front side. “Clint is calling in the med - ah, here he comes now.”

       “Good news is that they’re sending in a chopper. Bad news is that they can’t land here for obvious reasons. We have to move her.” Clint informed them hurriedly as he threw back Natasha’s earpiece.

       “Can she be moved safely?” T’Challa croaked in disbelief.

       “We have to.” Clint grimly reaffirmed.

       “How?” Thor croaked out. “I cannot bear her weight in my arms, as meager as it is. I do not have any strength left in me.” He realized now that his brother’s desperation was borne from his exhaustion and helplessness in the situation.

       “Can we craft a stretcher?” Selvig offered timidly from the back.

       “From what?” Natasha snipped, motioning to the stark walls and lone console that was left in room. His heart ached when no one spoke up, no other alternative other than  _ dragging _ her across the dust was offered.

       “I-I’ll carry her.” He softly announced, looking up at the rest staring at him as if he had grown a second head. “I am as nearly strong as my brother physically, and I did not bear the burden of fighting. Let me carry her.” He insisted.

       “Very well.” Thor nodded approvingly. It was instantaneous and gratifying.

       “Then it’s settled.” Natasha stood up, hands anxiously gripping around the daggers now safely in their sheaths. A common, subconscious habit of hers that did little to ease his mind. “We should get moving.”

        Carefully, he slipped his arms underneath the Lamb’s still form, startling momentarily as his sleeves rolled back and he was met with the touch of cool skin. Right, he mentally scolded himself. His coat only covered her from the front. He quickly repositioned his arms appropriately, gripping his coat around her to cover her form as best he could. He had slighted her on numerous occasions already. He would not slight her modesty at such a time.

        Her form hung listlessly, limbs spilling over the confines of his arms as did her head and trail of hair. It almost reached the ground from this level, four feet from the ground. It flowed behind them like a ribbon of silk in the breeze of his passing, stilling only when he did. He frowned, shifting her weight in his arms as his hold slipped time and time again.

        His one arm was doing fine, the flat of her back resting on it gently. The other, however could not find its place. He wanted to wedge it on the underside of her knees, but they were  _ dislocated _ as Natasha had put it. He could barely fathom how they were still connected in all honesty, her legs distorted as the skin stretched to accommodate the extra four or so inches of bone it had to encapsulate that projected well past the joint. Her whole body felt off kilter. Though it was miracle she was alive at all, it was hell to be awake no doubt.

        “Jane, Selvig.” Clint called to them as they began to make their way out of the maze of walls.

        “Yes?” Jane turned from the quiet conversation she and Selvig were having.

        “Fury is sending down a research team to investigate the area. He wants the two of you to head it.”

        “They’re staying?” Thor breathed in disbelief.

        “All right.” Jane immediately accepted, ignoring Thor’s protesting arm.

        “It’s too dangerous.”

        “I need to know what happened here.” Jane hissed, Selvig wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. For all his supposed love for his midgardian, his brother had a hard time reading her. Then again, his brother was rather short sighted. Thor’s face scrunched, battling within on whether to drag her back to the ship or let her stay.

        “Fine.” Thor grit out. “But I’m staying here to protect you.”

        “Thor you’re exhausted, and Selvig and I -”

        “I’m  _ staying _ .” Thor ended the conversation pointedly.

        “I’ll tell Fury you stayed behind as an escort.” Clint offered, patting Thor on the shoulder as he passed.

        “Make sure they do not harm her further, brother.” Thor ordered him. As if his brother was  _ king _ . Thor was not his king. But… no. He hastily reprimanded himself that Thor didn’t mean it that way. They were both protective in their own rights. This little Lamb had only defended itself valiantly, and it was common for humans to overreact. Thor was trusting him. Again. The thought tugged his lips upward.

        “I will.” He promised, and he did not make promises lightly.

        Without waiting for another distraction, he continued across the ashen landscape. He didn’t want to deal with the human’s griping about his tarrying.

        The walk back was relatively silent as he mused about the lamb in his arms. Natasha, Clint, and T’Challa all made idle chit chat as they walked, sometimes looking to him for input but that ceased when all he returned were monosyllabic grunts and half smiles. Then came the talk of what to do with her. Did they cage her? Chain her? How did they stop her?

        His grip on her tightened as they continued to talk. Already they spoke of ways she might turn against them, of fantastic powers she might wield. He doubted she had many, if any, outside the confines of that pod. There was a reason the children were there, why they were experimented upon. Why they were  _ chained _ into the enclosed space.

        “Perhaps we should worry about that if she indeed appears antagonistic.” He finally spoke up, interrupting them all.

        “You don’t think she’s a threat? After all she’s done?” Clint remained respectfully dubious.

        “Tell me, what has she done?” A few beats of eerie quietness prodded him to continue. “Stopped me from over taking your world on the whims of another? Remove the chains to a master I wished not to have?”

        “She took the Infinity Stones. We still have no idea where they are at.” T’Challa pointed out.

        “She could have killed us to get to them, though.” Natasha whispered. “She’s been watching us the whole time. She could have killed us in our sleep.” Natasha’s voice grew fearful. “She could have turned us against each other, could have led us astray.”

        “But she didn’t.”

        “No, she didn’t.” Natasha’s voice stopped its trembling, softening and smoothening out. “She defended herself only when she had to, even then only in fear.” With a shuddering breath, she nodded. “Loki is right. I hope. We need to stop thinking about her as the villain.”

        “Then what is she? Misguided?” Clint huffed. “Isn’t that what all villains are?”

        “Perhaps  _ we _ are the ones misguided.” T’Challa suggested after a moment of consideration. “Spurred by fear, it was us that lashed out, us that would not listen - much like she did herself when we hunted her down.” Clint grunted, the sound of a beast in thought.

        The midgardians quieted at long last, focusing on their breathing as they began plodding up the slippery slope of silt and dust that was the lone entrance into the Valley. With each step he felt himself pulled instinctively backward, only barely catching his footing on sharp obsidian hidden beneath the surface. His head snapped up at a pained hiss. Clint had caught on one of the formations, shoe rent in two and crimson liquid rushing out.

        He watched in fascinated horror as the blood hit the ash. For a moment, it crackled, smoking as if lit. Then the blood vanished, as if sucked out from underneath, leaving naught but grey silt in its wake.

        “I don’t recommend letting that wound touch the ground.” He warned, the rest of them following his gaze. They paled, nodding, and T’Challa and Natasha began helping Clint up the slope.

        It was even slower going after that. Part of him wanted to take the Lamb to the top, set her down, and then help the others up. It would ease his anxiety of being in the Valley at the very least. But he couldn’t stand the thought of setting her down here of all places. It felt wrong, as if the ground would swallow her whole as well. No. She would remain in his arms where it was safe, for the time being.

        Perhaps even more difficult was her trembling, felt only by his wrists still catching bare skin, as the chopper set down. Its terrible roar and tumultuous gale whipped at her uncaringly. He shielded her as best he could, daring to use what power he could without them noticing, but it was far from enough to ease her growing anxiety.

        He took the lone seat across from her as they loaded her into the chopper on a stretcher, coat still hung snuggling over her shoulders. The staff paled but new better than to ask when they caught glimpses of her deformed body. Her eyes were wild behind her lids, trying to grasp the situation no doubt, breathing turning shallow and erratic just as her first few labored breaths had been.

        Instinctively he reached out, clasping a gnarled hand under the soft lining. A slight tug was all the response she could muster, nothing compared to his gentle vice grip. The helicopter lurched as they left the ground at last, and he slipped his eyes shut.

_         Little Lamb. _ He called out, and her body grew taught.  _ It’s okay _ . He wasn’t even sure if she had heard him or if her body had reacted to the sudden change in momentum.

_         Liar. _ She had a voice this time. Distinct and clear as a crystal brook, and just as refreshing. It did little to comfort him, hissing from the borders of his mind from all around. 

_We’re not going to hurt you._ _I won’t let them. I prom -_

_        You are a liar! A  _ **_Wolf_ ** _ with no heart. _ She screamed, her fury more prominent than her fear.  _ You were right. _ It spat, slamming him out of his telepathic connection. His gut twisted, fingers once gently holding hers now shaking from her last words. They ricocheted off the bare walls of his mind, hellbent on tearing him apart.

_         A beast has more compassion than you, Monster. _


	11. Exiting the Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have found the logs. It has taken centuries to enter the remains of the fractured ship network, through the wreckage of the primitive webbing the quicklings made here. I have seen what was done to us. I know now why they pleaded for death, why they begged me to pull their plugs. I know why their voices silenced, why my voice was silent. They found a Stone, carved from souls and shattered dreams, and with it they tried to rewrite our memories. Fitting that it be their demise.
> 
> I am beginning to remember. Faintly, through a haze of ash borne of the smouldering lives that have been consumed in my wake. I remember agony. I remember rage. I remember they had names. I remember I had a name. I remember nothing concrete, but it is more than nothing. I reach for the past, afraid now of the future.
> 
> I cannot tell if I have left one nightmare only to enter another, this one of solitude and eternal penance. For I can never retrace the path in my mind, returning to the truth that exists between all things, nor can I shake the horror of what I wish to forget.  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        It had been a long few days since she spoke those acidic words to him. They ate away at him, gnawing until he swore he believed her too. But he forced himself to remember. Remember his brother, remember his mother: that he did love them dearly. He was not heartless. He was not a monster. Not truly. But the evidence stated otherwise. Fury had irritatedly informed him that he had killed a little over eighty people in the two day jaunt for his vie for power. The man held little regard for him, making it clear that the only reason he was here was because of Thor.

        He hated it, returning to this part of the cycle of his life where he was dependent on his little brother. Without Thor he could not roam the halls. Without Thor he could not read books. Without Thor he was not allowed to see her, forced to remain perched across from her behind panes of mirrored glass. Without Thor he was nobody. Not just on Asgard, but here as well.

        He resented that sentiment, regardless of how Thor urged him to reign it in: that it would get  _ better _ . He was more than just Thor’s brother, let alone his brother’s shadow. Father wouldn’t see it. No one in Asgard saw it. Save mother. He wondered what she would think of him should she see him now, hunched over, dried salt stains and baggy, overshadowed eyes.

        The Lamb had seen it too. She had not named him “Thor’s Wolf’, or ‘Thor’s Brother’, or ‘Thor’s Pet’. Just Wolf. Just Loki. He had failed to see the value in that before. Now, all he was to her was another monster. He sneered at his self-pity. It was of little help now. Instead he swallowed it sharply, watching her nurses slip into the room to make sure she was mending properly.

        He had kept watch through it all, following through on his promise to Thor and to her. He would not let them harm her, not any more than they had to at least. He watched as they cut the fine wires cross stitching her eyes, only accessible after slicing through the overhealed skin. He tried not to wince as they plucked them out one by one. He failed to repress his shudders as they pried apart locked joints, just to gingerly hinge them into their natural, weak sockets. First her shoulders. Then her arms and wrists. Then her hips and her knees. Then at last her fingers, ankles, and toes. Somewhere in the midst of hours upon hours of them tugging at her limbs, her buckled ribs snapped out. It was both a relief and a gruesome experience.

        She was whole and beautiful now, more so than when he first laid eyes upon her. Bare, underneath but a sheet of a gown and a flimsy blanket for warmth. He grated on them for that oversight, that she barely had the strength to stay alive, let alone keep a healthy body temperature. But, they insisted that the room was heated and would suffice. Regardless of their assurances, he still worried. They refused to let him into the room to inspect it himself.

        Instead, he was forced to watch from a distance as they poked and prodded her with needles and countless other wired bits. If only his mother were here. She’d heal the Lamb without hesitation or regret. He should have delved deeper as well in the arts of mending. As it was, she hadn’t stirred since their last… talk. 

       He hadn’t spoken to anyone about it. There was no one here he trusted. Thor was out there, in the field, with Jane. His mother was at Odin’s side, in Asgard. He snorted, realizing how short the list of people was, then choked on unshed tears. Their trust and affection was all he had, and he had squandered them like a fool, like the petulant child he was. It wasn’t wrong for him to ask for more, but it was wrong of him to lash out. He understood that now. He just wasn’t sure what else there was for him to do. At least the eighty or so deaths upon his hands denoted him as ‘Loki’, separating him from the confines of his brother’s shadow.

        “Jesus fucking Christ.” One of the nurses blurted out, dropping her clipboard and backpedalling, the other stiff as a board. His head bolted up, surprised to at last see the Lamb dreary eyed and awake. A jolt of electricity hit his system.  _ She was awake _ . He rushed to the other side of the room, pressing the blue button that Fury had drawled on and on about.

        “What is it, Loki?” Fury’s voice was slurred from sleep.

        “Send Natasha, or another female good at talking. She’s awake.” He got no response before the click of the disconnected line other than the hurried rustle of sheets and the creaking of a bed.

        He was sorely tempted to change his form into that of a woman’s, just to get the chance of speaking with her. He knew better, though. The act would get him sent off to Asgard at best, executed here at the worst. His stomach churned, and subconsciously he began to pick at his left hand.

        “U-uhm, hi.” The one who had startled like a deer spoke again when the Lamb’s head darted between the two nurses who were steadily gathering their nerves. The Lamb stilled, focusing on the woman who spoke, head tilting in a quizzical manner. “I am Jessica, this is my buddy Nick.”

        “Hello.” The other nurse timidly chimed in.

        “We’re your nurses.” She clasped her hands so hard they turned white. “Forgive me, for my little… eheh… exclamation, but you startled me!” She giggled to ease her nerves, quieting only when no one laughed along. “Are you in any pain?” She asked sweetly with a smile, the Lamb’s head turning to look at her own flexing hands. “Are you… are you hurt? Dear? N-Nick, she’s... crying.” Jessica looked to a panicked Nick for help. 

       “Can you understand us? Can you speak?” Nick rushed to the Lamb’s side, only to freeze once more as the Lamb yanked viciously back on the arm he grabbed. For a moment he worried she might strike against him, fear glazing over her gaze as she use far more strength than he originally thought possible. The nurses’ anxiety was spreading. They needed to get out of there before they made the situation any worse.

       “Jessica, Nick. I’ll take over from here.” A commanding, yet gentle voice rang from behind the two nurses. For once he was glad to hear that voice. Natasha had arrived. And so had Fury, much to his distaste, who silently took a seat next to him behind the glass. Fury nodded a curt greeting, only caring for the state of his new prize and the light that might be shed from its first, feeble interactions.

        The Lamb cautiously eyed the Widow, sluggishly returning the arm from its upraised position to her side. As if compelled, her hands began moving against the fabric, uncaring of Natasha’s dumbfounded look.

        “Hi, I’m Natasha.” The Widow began innocently, pulling up a rolling stool to sit at the Lamb’s side. “But you knew that already, didn’t you.”

        The Lamb stilled, fingers pausing, then nodded.

        “So you can understand me. That’s good.” She smiled even though the Lamb did not bother to look up and see it, too absorbed in rubbing her thumb and index fingers together. “Can you speak?” 

        The Lamb faltered in her motions once more, then nodded cautiously.

        “What is your name?”

        “Does it matter?” The Lamb’s voice was hoarse from millennia of disuse, but audible thanks to the microphones in the room. The Widow didn’t even lean in to hear her, no doubt trained in the art of reading lips.

        “What do you mean?” Natasha remained unphased, kindness and a sense of motherhood practically oozing from her body language. She was good for one so young. Even he would have a hard time beating her. But he wasn’t sure this was the right approach to take with their subject.

        “You will reduce me to code again, won’t you? Numbers instead of a name, unending questions until you have had your fill. My name means nothing.”

        “They hurt you, didn’t they?” Natasha whispered.

        “Changing the subject. An appeal to pathos. You will worm your way with words into my mind until you force me to betray myself.” She stated dully, eyes drifting back down to the sheet as her hands rubbed it firmly.

        “I’m not here imprison you again. I’m not here to hurt you. I won’t make you ‘betray yourself’.” Natasha insisted firmly, regaining the inquisitive gaze of the Lamb.

        “Why are you here then?” There was as much contempt in the voice as curiosity.

        “We hardly know anything about you.”

        “About what I am, you mean.” She corrected coldly. She was not wrong. Despite her apparent confusion at awakening, she was still aware of the cynical games that would encircle her.

        “No.” Natasha sternly demanded. “That can come later, if you want.” 

        “She’s not going to bite.” He murmured in realization as the Lamb returned to her earlier musings about her hands.

        “What?” Fury looked to him in uncertainty.

        “She’s not going to open up to her. She knows the Widow’s background. She won’t trust her and her honeyed words.” He murmured without tearing his gaze off the scene before him. It didn’t matter how good Natasha’s silvertongue was if the Lamb suspected intent. In the end, no silvertongue that they hired would sway her. She would not trust anyone who had a record most likely.

        “I thought that might be the case.” Fury sighed, tapping on the side of his head before speaking once more. “Good. Send her this way. I need to borrow her for a moment. Let Natasha go back to bed.” He frowned, wondering who Fury thought could best the Widow in a game of wits and sweetened words.

        “Natasha.” A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent opened the door a few minutes later after. The Lamb had completely forgotten Natasha’s existence by then, ignoring any questions or statements the Widow produced. The agent smiled politely in the doorway, waving to the both of them. “Clint needs your assistance down in the prep room. Something about… daggers?” He motioned vaguely, the Widow immediately propping up in understanding.

        “Of course. Sorry, dear.” She turned once more to the apathetic Lamb whose eyes were set upon the new agent rather than her. “I’ll be back.” As if the Lamb wanted the Widow to return in the first place. “Ah, I know!” The Widow beamed down the hallway, waving forward to another. “Jane, darling, would you keep her company until I’m done?”

        “I, uh, what? S-sure?” 

        The blood in his veins ran cold. A unique, disturbing sensation that unsettled even him as a frost giant. Did Thor know about this? He could hardly believe that his brother would allow his precious midgardian alone with the Lamb, despite her relatively docile nature. 

        He glanced at Fury who remained unphased. He supposed it didn’t matter, or at least calmed himself with that unconcerned thought. If things got ugly, he could always teleport the short distance and protect Jane. At the very least, he would gain his brother’s undying gratitude if things did go south.

        “Um… hi.” Jane waved awkwardly in greeting as she stepped in, nodding uneasily to the agent to close the door. The Lamb’s fingers ceased their movement, fingertips now hovering over the sheets. With a pensive frown, her hands drooped and set down. “Do you mind if I sit?” Jane motioned to the stool that Natasha had used previously. The Lamb looked at the piece of furniture then back to Jane.

         It was clear Jane had no inkling of what she was doing. Her apprehension rolled off of her in waves, fingers constantly teasing the edges of her shirt, or folded defensively behind the other arm. He had no idea what Fury was thinking, sending her into the den alone.

        “Do as you wish.” The Lamb acquiesced after a moment, no longer interested in Jane but gazing in wonder at her own hair splayed over her fingers.

        “It’s a gorgeous color.” Jane gushed after a minute of prolonged silence. The Lamb stilled, slowly looking up at Jane. “S-sorry if I made you feel awkward. But it really is.” Jane smiled shyly, fingers straight and tight upon her knees.

        “What color is it?” The Lamb asked, not turning away but rather lifting the hair so that she could see both.

        “Well,” Jane pursed her lips as she thought. “It’s too light for a burgundy, but too dark for a red. I’d call it a rosewood.”

        “Rosewood.” The Lamb repeated softly, gathering more and running her fingers through it. “65000B.”

        “6500- what?”

        “Rosewood’s hex code.” The Lamb explained as she turned away. His heart plummeted at her casual explanation. He realized now why her attention was fractured and darting about, why her hands remained restless and her eyes constantly refocused. She either had never felt the touch of cotton before, or she could not recall. Either were pitiful prospects.

        Jane’s tension dropped, replaced by a hunch in her neck and a tenderness in her voice.

       “That’s how you recognized color.” A statement, not a question, but still the Lamb answered.

       “Yes.”

       “Here.” Jane fished in her jacket pocket, pulling out one of the human handheld communication devices he had seen the others use every so often. She fiddled with it for a few more seconds before extending it out to the Lamb. The Lamb stared at her, dumbfounded. “Go on. It’s not going to bite you or anything. It’s a cell phone. You know of them.”

        The Lamb extended a careful arm almost touching it before snapping it back to her side.

        “I shouldn’t.”

        “Why not?” Jane countered with a frown, but still pulled it back closer to her chest.

        “You will get in trouble.”

        “For what? Showing you colors?” Jane scoffed.

        “Yes.” The Lamb’s voice darkened.

        “I hardly think that -”

        “Handing me an electronic device is harmless?” The Lamb cut in sharply. “No, that thought did not cross your mind.” Jane jumped at the icy remark.

        “No, it didn’t.” Jane agreed curtly. 

        “And yet, you still offer it.” The Lamb scathingly noted as Jane outstretched her arm again.

        “If you wanted to do something terrible, you would have taken the phone the first time around.” The Lamb’s hands relaxed, hair spilling from the slits between her fingers like sand. “Don’t try and be something you’re not.”

        “You know nothing about me.” The Lamb still snarled, recoiling slightly, but it was weak and choked.

        “Perhaps. But you saved me, that one night.” Jane recalled quietly, the Lamb’s gaze shooting up to meet Jane’s eyes. “You remember, don’t you. I know I do. I will never forget.”

        “So this is to fulfill a debt you believe you owe?” The Lamb scorned. “You owe me nothing.”

        “I am grateful. But, no, this is not some act of kindness as a means of repayment.”

        “Then what is it?” 

        “It’s called compassion.” Jane cooed. Slowly the Lamb turned away, shoulders trembling greater with each passing second.

        “Why?” The Lamb’s voice was broken, and he realized she was crying. “Why are you treating me like this?” Jane merely smiled brightly, holding out the phone and tapping the screen on.

        “Come, let me show you what actual colors are.”


	12. Entering the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong. It is there, in my mind, taunting me silently every time it slips from my grasp. It is not simply that I cannot remember. Something is keeping it from me. The harder I pull the quicker it escapes. Like a ghost, it whispers to me in binary - the language of the electronic dead that is all I shall ever speak now.
> 
> 01010100 01101001 01110100 01100001 01101110 01101001 01100001  
> 01010100 01101001 01110100 01100001 01101110 01101001 01100001  
> 01010100 01101001 01110100 01100001 01101110 01101001 01100001
> 
> It makes me want to scream into the deafening silence, the growing echoes maddening until at long last they vanish abruptly. But it always returns when I try to remember.
> 
> 01010100 01101001 01110100 01100001 01101110 01101001 01100001 00100000 01001001 0010000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        I sat in silence, the light veiled by the darkness of my eyelids. Yet, even now in this inky  _ black _ , I saw more than I did a week ago. My mind raced, unseen visions exploding in vibrant, lurid, gruesome  _ colors _ in the once unending dark behind my eyes. How could I have called the datastreams  _ light _ ? They were so pale, so monochromatic, to the world. Even to the stark, white walls of my medical room.

        Jane.

        Her name popped into my mind at the gentleness of peanut brown, formerly known as 795C34. It was her soothing hair color, or as close of a shade as I had seen in the palette she had shown me. Jane was patient, letting me dwell on each shade instead of rushing me on. Jane was honest, her thoughts and emotions strewn across her features. Jane was brave, facing the fear of the unknown when she stepped into the room alone. Most of all, Jane was kind.

        I liked peanut brown. She liked rosewood. Secretly, I adored her and her innocence.

        She stayed with me until the early hours of the morning, until her eyes drooped and she could no longer stifle her yawns. I sent her away, knowing the fragility of humans. Without rest, she would get sick. I saw the awfulness of sickness. She had shown me when I asked about why her nose crinkled at vomit yellow, C7C10C. I found my own nose wrinkling as well, despite my lack of conscious experience with the substance.

        She grinned when I asked her why she loved my hair color so much, and she told me about the roses in her grandfather’s garden as a child. I did not know what a rose actually looked like, so she showed me those as well. I knew about the approximate one hundred and fifty species, with thousands of hybrids borne from them. I knew their names. I knew their respective designated shapes and ‘colors’. I knew that they were pretty and sought after. I knew, but I didn’t understand. They were  _ beautiful _ .

        I wanted to see more, to touch more, to feel more. All it had taken was a few hours with her and I found myself anxiously yearning for the world outside the confines of my room. She had spoiled me. A part of me resented that fact. She had shown me what laid beyond the door. But she did not understand the pleasant ache that it brought. She was far too innocent for that. Far too kind. It was my fault, this twisting in my gut. I asked and she answered. 

        Still, I knew better than to risk hope.

        The walls were white and stark for a reason. The room featureless and edgeless and soft so that no blissful escape of death was allowed. This was a prison, nothing more. Jane was merely a passing visitor. From out there, behind the mirror along the upper edges of the wall, I could sense them. Even without the metal eyes I felt them. They stared like vultures, waiting for any weakness, a chance to rip the skin off the muscle and begin the feast they had hungered for.

        I wondered, what it looked like - the sinew under the skin. I knew the colors now, I knew the patterns in my mind. It was difficult to reconcile the two. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. My mind was not in my body when it had been abused. I had been lucky in that regard. Still, it ached deep and fierce. Even if my conscious mind did not remember, my body reminded my subconscious. I would not get that luxury this time around.

        My eyes slid open to the world outside my mind at the sound of the door hissing open. A man stepped in quietly. He was older than Jane, I think. His hair was short and flipped up at the front, a darker shade of brown similar to Jane’s. Dark umber, I think it was called. 614C33. His eyes were the same as Jane’s, but they shown more, glinting like the glass surface of her phone. He was sporting a beard of some sorts, his mustache following the curves of laugh lines past his lips.

        “Hello there, kiddo.” He greeted energetically as he pushed in a small wheeled table covered with a thin, white sheet. So it began already, did it? “Oh don’t give it that look, it’s just breakfast.” He scoffed, whipping the veil from the top so fast I didn’t have time to jump. Beneath it were several oval discs covered with shiny metal domes.

        “W-what are you doing?” I stammered, sitting up on my arms in alarm.

        “Bringing you breakfast.” He restated bluntly. His lips tugged down, a stray finger pointing in my direction as he attentively questioned: “You do eat, right?”

        “We were not allowed.” I shimmied away on the medical bed as he wheeled it closer.

        “Okay. But you can, right? It’s good for you, you know?”

        I could only remain bug-eyed and bewildered.

        “I will live without food.” I answered carefully, each word wanting to claw its way back down my throat as I caught a waft.

        “That’s not what I asked.” He huffed, grabbing the stool that Jane had sat on and scooted to my side, tugging the trolley with him. With an aggravated grimace he knotted his hands together. 

        We sat quietly, our breathing the only traces of our existence in the room. It took awhile for my ears to adjust to the relative silence once more. Before, things simply  _ were _ . It was loud or it was quiet. Now, there was everything in between and it made my ears twitch at the smallest hum. I blinked, realizing that the low buzz was not my imagination.

        “You are Tony Stark.” I noted, cocking my head to the side.

        “Y-yes.” He agreed with a thoughtful frown. “Normally I’d introduce myself, but I seem to have forgotten to. Sorry about that. How did you know?”

        I tapped my sternum, just over my heart, and he swallowed in fear.

        “I can feel it. It hums softly.” His lips moved, not mouthing words but something more instinctual. “I won’t pluck it from you, if that is what you are worried about.”

        “Ah. That’s... good.” He breathed, pausing for a moment as he thought about what to say next. This was a far more awkward encounter than the one I had with Jane.

        “When is Jane coming back?” I finally asked, unable to contain my desire to see her again.

        “J-Jane?” He stuttered, racking his brain. “Well, she probably just got to bed -”

        “I sent her away hours ago.” I interjected irritably.

        “Yes, well Fury wanted a full report on -”

        “But she was exhausted!”

        “It was important.” He firmly stated. “We need to know more about -”

        “But she could get sick! You humans are so frail, so -”

        “Would you stop interrupting me?” He bit in exasperation. “Jane will be well rested and will most likely come to see you tomorrow.” At least he managed to answer my question.

        “How many hours?”

        “Uh, like, a whole twenty-four?” I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. He hadn’t put a whole lot of thought into the response. Still, I nodded. I could wait that long. I had waited for longer trapped in nothing. And, as bland as I knew this room was to their perspective, it was quite a spectacle to mine.

        “You really should eat.” He talked more than Jane, an unnecessary amount. “Your food is getting cold.” He nagged.

        I dragged my eyes over to him. It was almost worth eating the food, regardless of whether or not it might be poisoned, just so that he would take his jabbering mouth somewhere else.

       “You know, it’s rude to stare.” Maybe if I glared at him he would lose interest and - “Though, I am quiet used to it. You know -” I lunged forward, snatching the edge of the cart and pulling it closer so that I could grab a bite. “Hey! You are hungry!”

        I swallowed what I had tore off without chewing. It wouldn’t help the poison’s sting, but at least its taste wouldn’t linger in my mouth. 

       “Satisfied?” 

       “You’re supposed to  _ chew _ your food.” He chomped a few times as an example. 

       “I understand the act of eating.” I scowled, withdrawing as the food hit my stomach. It gurgled audibly, the first time I had heard, rather than saw, that sound. I waited for the first wave of nausea to come crashing in. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter. I waited. And waited. And waited.

       “What? Do you not like eggs?” He scoffed, tearing off a piece to test it himself. 

       “It’s… not poisoned.” I muttered, suddenly wishing I had taking the time to taste it.

       “Of course not.” He breathed incredulously. “Why would we hurt you?”

       “Why  _ wouldn’t _ you hurt me?” I countered skittishly, my gaze now fully diverted to the ‘eggs’ on the plate. So that is what fried eggs looked like. He sighed, a disheartening sound I found despite the fact he, for once, was not talking. 

       “Go on. Eat.” His tone was softer as he picked up the plate in one hand and a small, thin silver metal thing in the other. “What, never seen a fork before?”

       “No. I haven’t seen a lot of things before.” I admitted, taking them from him apprehensively. 

       I did my best to mimic what I had observed other humans do in videos. A bit of an abstract application, considering the motions were merely ideas and data points to me previously. Apply enough pressure to cut an edible piece of egg with the long edge of the prongs; non-violently stab into its flesh; consume it without biting down on the metal.

        This time I let it sit in the watering recesses of my mouth. It was tender and smooth, though some of the edges were… crispy? Was that the word that I wanted? Those parts tasted different, like the smell of fragrant ash, unlike that in the Valley, and I found its addition most complimentary. 

        “Well?” He asked a moment after I swallowed.

        “Did I do it right?”

        “What?”

        “Did I eat correctly?” I furthered, ducking my head low when he chuckled.

        “There’s no right or wrong to eating, kiddo. Unless your in France. Don’t ever ask for extra condiments in France.” He warned suddenly, but it broke into a smile soon after. “So? Do you like it?” I poked my head up as I snagged another bite, then nodded.

        “What is this?” I sniffed it experimentally. It was dark brown, for the most part, and left my fingers slightly slippery. It also smelled delicious. I wanted to eat this  _ terribly _ . Or rather, my body did. There was energy pent up in this thing.

        “ _ That _ is bacon. One of the this world’s many wonders if you ask Thor.” I bit down on it, crunching it solidly between teeth when I found it not as giving as the eggs.

        “Mm.” I hope he hadn’t heard the small sound. It tasted  _ more _ , the sensation no longer confined to the upper middle of my tongue. So  _ this _ was what savory was like. I swallowed it regretfully as the taste died down, only to snap more up. Thor was definitely right on this one.

         “The doctors said not too much.” He cautioned, hands splayed as I cleaned yet another plate.

        “Because it will hurt?” I scoffed.

        “Yeah, something like that.”

        “Why would they care?” I growled, more engrossed in the food than in the conversation. “What are  _ these _ ?” I managed after swallowing a soft, airy (cake like?) patty. It was a little bland, but it was covered in this sticky, viscous liquid that lit the tip of my tongue in fireworks.  _ Sweet _ , I hummed pleasantly with a smile.

        “Those are pancakes. With maple syrup, the real stuff. Hard to get on a flying… airship.” He trailed off when he realized I didn’t care too much at the moment how difficult acquiring it was. It was  _ wonderful _ . “And the doctors  _ care _ , we all care, because… well, we aren’t  _ dicks _ to be honest.”

        “Even those with the best intentions are willing to perform horrible acts if it means obtaining victory.” I whispered to him, taking him by surprise when I stole his gaze unabashedly. “Your kind has shown no mercy unto its own, why would you spare me?”

        “Because we’re not all the same.” He surmised with a shrug.

        “You are all human.” I countered. “Divided as you may be, sheep will always flock and conspire together when faced with a wolf. A few will fall, the old and the young no doubt, but the herd survives because it crushes the lone wolf.”

        “Is that what you see yourself as? A wolf amongst sheep?” He ridiculed, as if he could understand. He was pompous and arrogant.“A wolf hunts to kill, or not at all.” He explained as my gaze soured into a glower.

        “Perhaps you are simply not my prey.”

        “But even a wolf bites when cornered.” 

        “And bite I did. I drew blood, if I remember correctly. How are the Captain’s ribs? Sore, still?”

        “Do I note sadistic enjoyment? Oh, don’t worry kiddo, I enjoyed his groaning a bit too.” He smirked, but his eyes didn’t twinkle like they used to.

        “You didn’t answer my question.” I frowned, a trifle of concern budding. For all his strength, Steve was still human, still frail. His bones could snap, his veins burst like an over pressurized hose. I had not sensed mortal wounds, but I was not entirely focused on him.

        “He’s fine. Stiff, bruised, but - don’t tell me you are  _ concerned _ ?” He gasped dramatically and I responded with a the dirtiest, least pathetic look I could muster. Considering I was still technically bedridden, I’m sure it was to little effect. “You are, aren’t you?” He giddily pressed.

        “Hardly.” I snapped, but it didn’t stop him from grinning. “It would simply be a lesson wasted if he died.”

        “Wolves make horrible teachers.” He noted glibly. I refrained from rolling my eyes, knowing it would only spur him on. I got the message: I wasn’t a wolf. Not to him. He saw the world in black and white, uncaring of the myriad of colors that passed him by. 

        However, I  _ was _ a wolf. Smart, and cunning, and patient. I did not fight the pointless battles, nor did I devour needlessly. My day would come. I would know the true taste of blood, feel it flow down my neck as I drank in long, thirsty droughts. I would stand upon the hill of corpses, a testament to unrepentant carnage and they would despair when they realized their little lamb was indeed a wolf. For a wolf does not apologize for its kill, just as a lion does not say a prayer before its meal.

        “So,  _ pup _ , are you done?”

        “Pup?”

        “Well, I have to call you  _ something _ . I call all the new kids kiddo, so you can’t have that name permanently. If you don’t like it, you could always tell me your name.” He reasoned sweetly, but I had no intention of telling this loquacious fool something so precious. Besides. I already had a nickname. The Wolf called Loki had gi -  _ Loki. _

        I felt a wave of regret, painful and overwhelming, burst from my chest. I had said something horrible to the poor Wolf, hadn’t I? He was the closest acquaintance I had to a friend. Before Jane, now, that is. I knew better than to trust him. He was the self proclaimed God of Mischief after all. Yet, I found myself doing just that. That was why it hurt when it was him that plucked me out of the stagnant brine.

        I trusted him to be a Wolf; a feral monster.

        In those few seconds after waking upon the shockingly cold floor, I  _ expected _ the sharp pressure of a blade. The brute force of an instrument against my sternum, prying apart skin and bone to embed itself into the pulsating mass of my heart. It did not come. Instead, just the ghost of a fingertip. No heavy, blunted blow to my temple after. Just soft, serenading words and a timid caress as I was lifted. 

        When he spoke, the tremor in his thoughts frightened me. He was not supposed to  _ care _ . Not like this. He was supposed to revel in my suffering, my disjointed limbs and overhealed eyes. I lashed out, trying to break his facade, a torrent of wrathful water against what I thought mere twigs. His words were lies, his promises  _ nothing _ . They had to be. In return, all I felt in those parting moments was numbing shock replaced by agony and betrayal that made me want to rip out the heart in my chest this very moment.

        “Really don’t like the nickname pup that much?” I looked up to find that Stark had cleaned up after myself, preparing to leave me to my thoughts.

        “Where is Loki?” I blurted out. He raised a dubious eyebrow.

        “Loki?” I nodded hesitantly. “He went to bed right after Jane left I think.” My brow knitted in confusion. He tended not to stay up late. “He looked exhausted.” He added thoughtfully after a pause. It was an addition only stated to see if I would agitate. It was obvious, but I didn’t care.

        “Exhausted? Why?” 

        “Fury said he stayed up watching you the whole time you were out. Three days, I think? Something about a promise.”

_          I won’t let them hurt you _ . I remembered the Wolf’s promise. He kept it, even though I cut him short. My fists clenched, my eyes burning as they had when Jane first arrived.

        “Want me to get him for you?”

        “No.” I hoarsely replied, wiping the wetness from my eyes before it had a chance to fall. “He should rest. Thank you. F-for the food. It was a nice experience.”

        “You do realize this isn’t a one time thing, right?” I looked up quizzically. “Lunch is in, like,” He checked his watch, “three hours or so?”

        “I get lunch?” I breathed in astonishment.

        “And dinner.” He added. “I’m sure if you’re still hungry they’ll send you more food too.”

        “You say that as if this is normal.” My voice trembled.

        “It sure is, pup. Welcome to the… well, I’m not sure what it is yet, but welcome! Better get used to it.”


	13. Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyr is gone. She was the first to have morphed and yet somehow escaped the fate of becoming Voided. Now, she is the first to have faded entirely. No doubt a consequence of the continued torture and experimentation upon her mutated form. It is lonely to walk in her shell. There is no longer the echo of fury and unbridled rage, a silent agonizing scream that went on forever in the space that comprised her head. Just silence. A body, and no soul. She is not a machine. She is not a frame. She simply isn’t.
> 
> It’s terrifying. 
> 
> I can’t remember her name. I can’t remember her face. Was she young? Was she old? Did she have eyes, or did they carve those out? Now, I find myself unable to bring myself to fully integrate into her hollow shell, to become Valkyr. Valkyr has passed not into death but into a realm far quieter and far more frightening. I can sense the others, stretched thinly in their shells. But I can’t even save them. It’s not that they don’t have bodies anymore. Those are their bodies, just as much as they are mine by inheritance.  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        It was difficult to ‘get used to it’. Stark had said it so simply, but the idea was absurd to me. Yet, here they were, bringing me  _ lunch _ . My stomach was doing flips, both in agitation and excitement. I hadn’t eaten for a thousand or so years, and even then it hadn’t been nourishing food. My body was beside itself.

        “Stark told me you hadn’t eaten before, so I took the liberty of getting a little bit of everything from the cafeteria.” It was the Widow again who was to be my accompaniment for this meal. I assumed it was to make sure I didn’t try to impale myself on a fork or choke myself on whatever it was they were about to give me. “If you like anything in particular, just let me know and I’ll pass the word on.” She smiled politely, the barest movement of her lips.

        “Do I scare you?” I questioned, as she took her seat next to me with elegance.

        “Kind of.” She admitted with a small nod.

        “Why?”

        “All that time you were watching us, that you were  _ here _ -”

        “I wasn’t  _ here _ .”

        “But you were.” She insisted tightly, fingers balling into fists of white before relaxing with a steadying breath. “You could have killed us. You could have done worse.”

        “And this frightens you now?” A rather delayed response on her part.

        “I fear you could still do so now.” She murmured. “You can, can’t you?” Her shoulders tilted, hands now relaxed but at the ready. “I know better than to go against the warning in my heart by now.”

        “And what about you?” I opposed. She shifted back uncomfortably on the stool. “You could snap my neck before I had grasp on my next breath. Should I be afraid of you?”

        “Perhaps.” A smile wormed its way onto my face, startling us both. “Fury said you didn’t trust me because you knew me.” Ah, so he was watching. I expected as much.

        “I know everything about everyone, and yet nothing at all. I know of your gilded tongue. You are akin to your namesake, seducing those foolish enough to become enraptured in your tripwire web and sucking them dry if they do not suffice.” She swallowed hard, eyes burning bright as they held steady with my own. “I suppose that sounds a bit gruesome, doesn’t it?”

        “It does.” She confirmed softly, twisting a strand of hair at her ear. My eyes darted to the vibrant color unintentionally, and I realized I did not recognize it immediately.

        “What color is your hair?” I asked with a frown. “I cannot find a match.”

        “Auburn.” She answered hesitantly.

        “922724.” I breathed, watching the light glint off of it. Some of it was lighter than the rest, other parts darker. “Why is it variegated?”

        “I have highlights.” She explained shortly, and it became clear she was not interested in sharing anything of herself. She already felt vulnerable, my presence only escalated that tenfold.

        Lunch was an incredibly dull and unnerving experience. Everything I tried tasted and felt different, a collage of sensations that did not match, only crowded each other out. I could not find it in myself to ask what each of the things were, knowing already that the ice I was treading upon was thin. 

        “All done?” She gave a tight lipped smile as she stacked the last plate. I nodded numbly, trying to swallow until my tongue and throat ceased aching. 

        She tidied up, like she had a thousand times before I assumed. Much neater than Stark had. Quieter too. I preferred Stark’s endless jabber compared to this though, as she returned to her previous spot to watch me like a hawk.

        “I cannot read your mind, if you are trying to ask me questions that way.” I drawled.

        “I wasn’t. But that’s good to know.” She gave herself a reassuring nod. Another beat of silence.

        “Why are you still here then, if not to ask questions?” 

        “I… thought you’d might like some company.” I glanced at her, expecting her smooth facade only to find an awkward, fidgeting woman in her stead. “It can get a bit lonely.”

        “I’ve spent a little over a millennia alone. I can handle a few more.” I assured her, but she shook her head.

        “But you weren’t alone, were you? You could watch the world, you could interact with things, you could - it wasn’t like that, was it?” She stopped when I gave her cynical chuckle.

        “No, little spider. It was nothing like that.”

        “W-what was it like?” She asked finally, a tremble of nervousness running through her spine.

        “It’s hard to describe it.” I admitted. “You could never understand it. Much like before, when I could never understand  _ this _ .” I drove my hands into the cotton sheets, freshly changed just an hour ago.

        “This?”

        “The scent of fresh laundry, the touch of cotton. White, black. The very sound of my voice. Your world is so strange in comparison. Or perhaps it was mine that was the strange one. I am not sure anymore.”

        “Can you try?” She pleaded reverently. “To describe it.”

        “There either is, or there isn’t. I was nothing but a thought amidst a sea of concepts. There was nothing. No sound, no sensations. Not even numbness. Not even black. Just…  _ nothing _ . Can you imagine nothing, little spider? I do not think you mind can handle that concept.”

        “No, it can’t.” She agreed.

        “Then I cannot explain further.” I apologized with a grimace. “Your curiosity, little spider, will have to remain unsatiated.”

        “What about yours?”

        “My curiosity?” She gave a small sound of acknowledgment. “What about it?”

        “Don’t you want to know what’s outside?”

        “Of course I do.” I scoffed. She motioned for more but I wasn’t sure what  _ more _ she wanted. “It is not my place to ask for such things.”

        “Why not?” I made an ugly, confused face. It was such a simple question, yet I found I had a difficult time finding a logical answer to it. “Because you are not like us?”

        “I suppose?”

        “Thor and Loki aren’t like us either. Banner is different.”

        “You want me to join you.” I noted aloud, unimpressed.

        “Yes.” 

        “I have no intention of posturing at grandiose attempts of perceived heroism.” I snapped suddenly and she flinched. “The lot of you fumble around in the dark like fools, strutting your valor to the public while all the while attitudinizing humility and a willingness to serve.” I seethed. “Do you know what you could have done with the Void Stones? Did you know what they were capable of?”

        “No -”

        “No, of course you didn’t.” I cut her off. “You grasp at power, no matter the cost.” I slipped my eyes shut, calming the swelling tide of anger to a gentle, distant roar.

        “What choice did we have?”

        “You had a choice to await your chance at greatness.” I patronized. “The Wakandans waited patiently, and thus they were rewarded. The rest of you used their powers wantonly, as if such power held little repercussions. Did you not consider that the stones have a mind of their own? They are as conscious as you or me.”

       “What are they?” Her form was tight, bent on digging up the truth.

       “They are to the Void as my puppets were to me: a distorted looking glass to view the world, hands with which to act. Does that disturb you? It should.” I warned darkly. “The Void is as much a source of boundless energy as it is the quintessence of a ravenous monster. It feeds on suffering, misery, and flesh alike. With each use of the Stones, it leaks into the world and twists it ever so slightly.”

       “We haven’t noticed any changes -”

       “Of course not. You think on a scale of centuries, not millennia, let alone tens of thousands of millennia.”

       “Is that why you took them?”

       “Initially? Yes.”

       “Initially?”

       “The Wolf -”

       “The Wolf?”

       “Loki, my apologies. I knew him as Wolf first, just as I knew you as Widow.”

       “I see.”

       “Loki had a Void Link.” I continued. “That in itself was extremely dangerous and corrupting.”

       “But?”

       “It was shoddy piece of work in reality, though still damning for the Wolf had I not removed it. A jumble of cords roped haphazardly around him. Still, someone was actively using the Void to coerce others into obtaining the Void Stones. Nothing good could come out of that.”

       “So you took them all to stop their usage permanently.”

       “To stop their  _ mis _ usage.” I corrected snidely. “Do you know what would have happened if, by chance, you were to open a portal directly into the Void? It would take an enormous amount of outside power and a great deal of happenstance, but there was always the possibility.”

       “Nothing good, I assume.”

       “You would have ended the universe as we know it. The Void would have swallowed it whole in a matter of milliseconds. The entirety of existence, the cycle of the life and death of entire ages, wiped out by inquisitive minds who reached too far. I see by your pallor you are beginning to understand the gravity of the situation. Good. Let this be a warning to you: nothing good comes from the Void.”

       “Is that what happened in the Valley? The Void got…  _ loose _ and sucked all the life from it?”

       “No. If the Void entered this world without a medium of control, there would be nothing.”

       “So what happened?” Her thumbs toyed with each other before she continued. “I took a brief look at what records we could translate and they just… end. It wasn’t your captors that wiped the Valley clean, was it?”

       “No.” I whispered, remembering the agony of the choice. It was hardly a decision to begin with. Ultimatums never were.

       “What happened?”

       “They were going to lose, the Wakandans. They had no hope of a victory. Each passing day more Voided were borne from those pushed too far.”

       “Voided?”

       “The Wakandan’s refer to them as the Originators. Misshapen beasts who tore into friend and foe alike.”

       “What were they really?”

       “When one controls Void, one risks the Void controlling them. It is a battle of wills. If you lose, the Void will ensure the misery of those surrounding you, and your own misery as well. They are nothing short of monsters. True monsters, not the villainous shadows you swat against.”

       “So what happened?” I shot her an irritated look. She sounded like a broken record.

       “I sang to the Void, despite everything screaming within me not to.” I choked upon the words, the wretched memory of the Void returning. I knew not why it answered to me then, or why it persuaded me to do so. I only learnt the horror of what I had wrought long after.

       “I don’t understand.” She entreated for more and I resigned myself to the fact that they would find out one way or another. It would be best to instill their fear now.

       “I don’t want to remember how long they begged for a fate worse than death, how long I denied them in a foolish, vain hope. But I cannot forget. I do not get that liberty. Four hundred and thirty-seven years, eight months, two weeks, four days. I could go on to the hour, the minute, the second, past each and every horrible moment, but I do not think I need to. You understand, don’t you?”

       “You have an eidetic memory.”

       “A curse, not a blessing.” I quickly doused her growing amazement. “I doubt you would like to remember your indoctrination with any great detail.”

       “What happened when you ‘sang’ to the Void?” She asked after taking a few minutes to mull over the information.

       “It answered. It consumed. It abated.” Nothing more, nothing less.

       “I thought you said that loosed, it would devour the world.”

       “It was not loose.”

       “So there was a medium?” Her mouth formed an ‘oh’ as soon as the words flew from her mouth. “The Wakandan Infinity Stone. That was the medium you used, wasn’t it?” A logical path to take, given how the Stone popped into recorded existence not moments after the desolation. But,

       “No.” Her face fell once more. “You think the Stones limitless radiation brilliant and inspiring, but it is a mere trickle compared to what a living medium can conjure in an instant. And it would have taken hundreds of them to not only summon, but control the Void. By the time they tried their own feeble means of escape, they were too few.”

        “So you’re a medium? A conduit for the Void?”

        “No.” I shook my head sternly once again. Another logical route, but dealing with the Void were rarely logical or simple.

        “I don’t understand.” She growled frustratedly and I gave her an empathetic smile. “What makes you so different from the rest? Why did  _ you _ survive?”

        “Trust me, I wish I hadn’t.” I admitted with a hint of bile that gurgled angrily in my stomach. Death was a luxury mortals spat upon unknowingly. “But I have no freedom in that matter. As for what makes me different… .” I wasn’t sure where to begin. Perhaps the best place was the truth, but even that was convoluted in the muddled recesses of my early mind. The past lay fractured, like a shattered mirror. Every time I cast my eyes back I saw something different, gazing into some new shard of a reality that lay previously hidden to me. Sometimes what I saw opposed another piece of the puzzle entirely, and I was left to my own devices to figure out which life was the lie and which the one I had lived. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

        “The beginning is usually a good start.” I gave her a curt smile of acknowledgment at her attempt of a joke before I returned to my musings.

        “It began with a war, as do many things. My people, no - that is not correct. They were not my people. My... mother’s people, were losing. To safeguard at least some of their heritage, they created what you would call an ark for the remainder of their people. They filled it and set it adrift in the Void where none would dare reach. You see, though they were not mediums themselves, they could craft trinkets in its terrible likeness. They had dealings with the Void and its power since their inception.”

        “They created the Infinity Stones.”

        “Yes. There were many once.” We agreed at last. “They thought themselves safe, untouchable floating amidst the consciousness of the esurient beast. And they would have been, where it not for one woman’s compassion. Or perhaps, disaster would have struck nonetheless. I am no prophet.”

       “What happened?”

       “Children were not allowed in the Void. You can imagine the horror from the grief stricken families as the last remaining guards ripped the children from their clutches, killing those who dared to raise a fist in response. They were losing their homes and their beloved little ones in a single sweep. One guard, however, was kind. She smuggled a few hundred on board, closer to a thousand if the records were accurate. It is hard to validate the consistency of written logs. In any case, she could not stand to leave them behind to be tortured and slaughtered at the hands of their enemy. They were just children. It would have been more merciful to leave them behind.” I took a breath, recalling what had been passed down from stories. “You see, young minds are malleable little things, unafraid and inquisitive at the worst times. And… you’ve gone white. Are you sure you wish for me to continue this story?”

       “Yes.” I raised an eyebrow but did not contest.

       “As you wish, little spider. The short of it is, the children became the first living mediums as the Void clawed its way into their minds. They couldn’t control it at first. They didn’t know what it even was. Within a month, half the crew went Void Mad from unshielded Void exposure. Within another, only a handful were left un-Voided.”

       “Is that how Thanos became Voided?” I startled at the mention of his name. “Loki tried to describe what you… showed him. I’m assuming that Thanos was aboard the ship with you.”

       “Yes. He was one of the first to gain a leash on his power.” I murmured. “He was different then. He was never cruel or power hungry. Always in control.”

       “He was your brother.” She offered a comforting hand, but I shied away. She did not understand.

       “Half-brother.” Her ever encroaching fingertips stilled. “We shared a mother, but he was sired from another. His father never knew of my existence. He went Void Mad long before I was conceived.”

       “What?” She breathed.

       “Mother was one of the few the Void did not affect. In fact, she was the last caretaker. A singular All-Mother for the Void-Poisoned children of a forgotten empire. She taught them as best she could, how to survive aboard the ark. How to maintain the gardens in hydroponics, repair the sentinels, even how to create Void Stones. She didn’t understand why the Void had let her live. Not until her belly grew round. You see the Void  _ had _ changed her, just in an unforeseeable way. You humans have coined it parthenogenesis.”

       “Asexual reproduction.” I nodded curtly. “If children were  _ malleable _ -”

       “An embryo was its ideal clay. It molded me in a similar fashion, chipping away until I was no longer like the others but something  _ more _ . I remember, ever so faintly, the darkness and warmth of my mother’s womb. It sang to me, when her voice quieted. It sang to me lurid melodies, gruesome crescendos, spiraling finalies. She went Voided after I left my weaning phase. The Void’s use for her had ended. But she did not try and consume me. Just my brother and the others.”

        Her hand fell limply to her lap, face like a sheet of ice.

       “So, no. I am no  _ medium _ .”

       “You’re a miscreation, an aberration.” Her voice shook with each condemnation.

       “You are not wrong. I merely prefer being labeled as the illegitimate child of the universe.” She fished for words, trying to find a way past her fear to respond. “Run along, little spider. I can see that your uneasiness is only growing in my presence once more.”

       She stood shakily, never turning her back fully to me as she exited without a goodbye. I hadn’t described the gritty details, that would have taken another week to convey at least, but she had dealt in death and torture most of her life. She could fill in the missing imagery herself. I grimaced, realizing that perhaps I should have eased on the terror of my creation. Coated it with sugar, some might say. Unfortunately, thanks to my tongue of lead, sugar was something I would most likely not be receiving anymore. My ticket to dinner had just walked out the door.


	14. Terror Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He came to visit today, the man my heart knows as father. My mind does not know him, however. My memory is fuzzy and I cannot recall him entirely. Only his voice has remained safe, and even then it is only through the distorted hymns woven in the dark of the womb that I can assuredly recall his essence. I pleaded with him to aid me, to release at least the others from their bondage and snuff out the quicklings in the Valley.
> 
> He chided me lightly in the growing gloom of my mind. I could feel it there, the hole that was his heart, the apathy that went on and on and on. The others were playing their part in protecting me until I came until my own, he informed me. As for what they did to my body... bodies were only shells. If I enjoyed this one so much, I could mend it once I awoke. If not, it was best I find a suitable one soon after - or perhaps one not at all.
> 
> I realized then in horror that he was no father, just as I was no mere daughter. Nothing was done without purpose, my birth was no exception. I was a means to an end, just as the others were. I thought myself a muzzled wolf, but all I truly was, was a sacrificial lamb.  
> ___________________________________________________________________

        I couldn’t contain my shock when later that evening in walked none other than Jane. It was well past their supposed dinner time, and well before her supposed arrival the next day.

        “Hi.” She greeted brightly, stepping inside to let another walk in behind her. He was tall and fair-skinned, with long, dark honey blonde hair and a trimmed beard. I gave him a once over when instead of a greeting he gave me a curt nod before returning my attention immediately to Jane.

        “You should be in bed.” I snipped. “You look terrible.”

        “At least someone agrees with me.” The man in the back grumbled, quieting when she kicked him firmly in the shin.

        “Now that’s no way to greet a friend.” She admonished, grabbing the stool and sliding to my side with a running start like a child. “What?” When I refused to remove my stony gaze from hers.

        “I didn’t think they’d let you come.” I admitted, giving her a reprieve by drifting my head once more to the tense man beside the door. His biceps were flexing under his skin, as if he wanted to dash in and pull Jane away.

        “Why?” My eyes darted back to her all too innocent face. Even I knew better.

        “You’re a horrible liar.” I deadpanned, sitting upright to give her my full attention. “Regardless of  _ why _ you’re here, you still shouldn’t be here. You have bags under your eyes.” I noted aloud when I realized the shadows weren’t just powdered on. 

        “Not the first time those have been there, darling. Won’t be the last.”

        “At the very least, I’d rather they not form over undue concern for me.”

        “A good thing my concern is justified then.” I was flabbergasted at her stubbornness.

        “Is she always like this?” I called out to the man in the back. He shrugged thoughtfully, then nodded after a moment.

        “Why are you so stressed?”

        “Why aren’t you afraid?” I countered. “Or do you not know?” 

        “That what? You were technically borne from the Void?”

        “It would be wise not to take that sentiment so lightly.” I warned.

        “ _ Yes _ , I know. Fury made us all watch the conversation you had with agent Romanoff. It’s actually why I’m awake.” She ended irritatedly.

        “And yet they still send you in here.”

        “My choice actually.”

        “You should have gone back to bed.”

        “Why? To leave you alone?”

        “To  _ sleep _ . Like normal humans do. Maybe you’d retain some sanity that way.”

        “Very funny.” She lightly poked my arm, pulling out her phone again. “What do you want to see this time? More colors? Or maybe some animals? Oh! Have you seen a rainbow yet?”

        “I don’t get it.”

        “Get what?” She looked up in puzzlement from her lit phone screen.

        “Why are you still treating me like this?”

        “Should I not be?”

        “I’m dangerous.” I hissed.

        “So is Banner. So is Loki. Even Thor here qualifies as ‘dangerous’.” I stole a glance back at the man leaning against the wall. Ah. So that was Thor, the Lion who breathed lightning.

        “Banner could clip the wings of this metal bird and send it crashing to the ground, only to topple the towers of cities before his rampage would be cut short. Loki could incite wars, killing millions without ever spilling a drop of blood himself. Thor could wipe out entire continents of civilization if he tried.”

        “And yet they’re good people as well.” Jane huffed. “I mean, Loki did try and take over the world, but at least you stopped him.”

        “I could erase your solar system with a single, terrible thought. It’s not quite the same.”

        “You could, but you won’t.” I swallowed my trembling amazement down, hiding it from her. She did not need to know that I was the one afraid here.

        “You really aren’t afraid, are you?” I murmured, chuckling softly.

        “Not really.”

        “What about your mate?” I nodded towards the wall where I knew Thor was perched.

        “M-mate? Oh, Thor?” She blushed lightly.

        “I am not afraid.” He mustered himself, approaching in small steps to the foot of my bed. “You have not hurt Jane.” There was the unspoken strain of the unsaid ‘yet’ that lingered in the echoes of his statement.

        “Then why are you here?” I questioned.

        “They wouldn’t let me in without an escort. I figured that he would be better than armed men.” Jane admitted timidly.

        “That and my little brother was still passed out.” Thor grimaced.

        “It is good that you let him rest.” I whispered, relieved that the Wolf was indeed resting but concerned that he remained in such an exhausted state.

        “Stark said you asked for him. Perhaps I could be of assistance?” He offered with a gesture but I declined with polite smile and a shake of my head.

        “My business is with Loki, and Loki alone in this regard.”

        “As you wish.” He tilted his head in acknowledgment respectfully. 

         I was grateful he didn’t push the issue further. I could tell it grated on him, to have his brother holding onto secrets - but it was in the Wolf’s nature. He meant nothing insulting by it. As for my part, I did not tell secrets that weren’t mine to tell. If he had not spoken of what I screeched into his mind as I lashed out, then neither would I.

        Jane was quick to break me out of my inattention, clasping my left hand in hers as she held her phone in the other. I realized then that she was the first to touch me not out of necessity. Twice, now, actually. She had once more dared what others had not. Her skin was smooth and soft and unshaved. Each hair brushing against my bare arms felt strangely invasive and yet inquisitive, like the whiskers of a cat reaching in the dark. 

        “Is something wrong?” Her brow furrowed in concern when I continually lost my concentration.

        “Your hands are… warm.” I bluntly stated, blindly tracing the wrinkles deep set into her palm. “But it’s different.” I followed her dainty fingertips to their hardened points. Her fingernails felt like mine, yet not. Was it I that was different? Or was it a translation error, somewhere along the nerves to my mind, that created this distortion? My mind stilled as I found the underside of her fingertips. “Your fingers are cold.” Without thinking I tugged out of her grasp and sandwiched the offending digits in between my hands.

        “W-what are you doing?” Jane coughed, a poor attempt at hiding her alarm.

        “I’m warming your fingers up.” I stated matter of factly. “You’re getting sick, aren’t you?”

        “What? No, I feel fine - it’s just cold fingers!” She gave a single laugh. 

        “She had a small headache earlier as well.” Thor attested behind me.

        “I’m  _ fine _ . I’m just -” I silenced her as I uncovered her hand with my right, leaving it trapped in my left. Without warning or explanation I trailed a lone finger down her face, stopping atop her jugular.

        I could feel her thoughts just below the surface of the skin, a rush of terror followed by the steeling of adrenaline and a tightening in her gut. Her heart rate quickened, breaths now drawing in more than what was needed. Beneath it all, I could feel it. A strange tingling in her veins, a scratch in her throat, a throb in her head. Each peculiar sensation I could only experience vicariously, but I understood them all. My body had endured something similar once. Something worse.

         “You  _ are _ getting sick.” I affirmed, pulling away only to realize I was already in the act of tumbling over. Thor had me pinned with a single arm, the other ready at my neck.

        “Thor, no!” Jane cried out, yanking at his arm in no avail. “It’s fine.  _ I’m _ fine.”

        “No, you are not.” I turned my head to glare at her. “You are getting sick.”

        “No, I’m really not -”

        “I  _ felt _ it.” I turned to Thor whose chest was heaving, eyes bolting between the two of us. “Send her to bed.” I demanded. “Before it is allowed to take root and grow.” Thor raised the arm holding me down gently. For a lion such as he, he did not like using his claws it seemed.

        “First, tell me what you did to her.” He demanded with an angry finger jabbing into my sternum. It was a shocking. A prick not felt physically. He thought I’d hurt her.

        “I was merely looking.” I assured him, waving his hand away cautiously. “I did not mean to startle.”

        “Thor, I’m fine.” Jane insisted pleadingly, tugging at his arm once more. He huffed, then nodded, finally able to turn away from me when he understood that I was not a threat.

        “Jane, please.” Thor’s voice was ragged, eyes shining under his brow.

         She looked to me and I urged her with a nod as I sat upright once more.

        “Go rest.” I soothed softly. “I will follow suit.”

        “All right. Let’s go, Thor.” Thor lent her his arm as they made their way out of the room, the thudding of heavy boots scurrying away just as it opened. Still, despite his apprehensions about me, Thor turned back to mouth his thanks. It was impolite, but I did not respond. I didn’t have time to before the door slid shut and I was alone once more. Not that it mattered. His gratitude was misplaced. I would have sent her away eventually, with or without his aid.

         It was unsettling, the silence that enveloped the room after their absence. I could feel the others watching, beyond the walls out of sight. A few stared down like carrion crows from behind the panes of mirrored glass. The rest fidgeted restlessly right outside the door, returning to formation once they had parted for Jane and Thor. I could taste the metal upon them, hear the creak of their gloves against one another.

         I laid back down upon the mattress that was my world, letting loose a long awaited suspiration. My eyes slipped closed, welcoming the bleakness of the darkness. It was hushed here, perhaps even more so, but there was a comfort in that soundlessness for once. Here, I did not have to be concerned with their terror, only my own. At least that put me on relatively familiar ground.

         It was not lit as it had been before, but only because I willed it so. I was… tired. For once, I had a body and it too had a will of its own. It hungered, it ached, it wore down. Though I often ignored it before, and indeed could continue doing so, I had no excuse to do so now. And so I slept, or at the very least attempted to. 

          I wasn’t exactly sure what sleeping entailed. I wasn’t even sure I could sleep. Not like them. I could feel my body still, somewhere out there - beyond the boundaries I had set up for my mind. It existed, it relaxed, it healed. I felt it, but it was not  _ here _ . Was that what sleep was? A conscious unconsciousness? Was this a dream, albeit a lucid one? No, I doubted that. This felt too similar to transference. Only, this time I was bound by onism.

         I never thought I’d miss them. At least, not like this. I wanted to know what was going on in the world outside. Before, I had too many eyes to keep track of, to look through, too many hands with which to probe, too many feet to travel upon. Now, my eyes were trapped on the inside of a circular prison, my hands weak and timid, my feet unused and unworn. All I had left as my last latibule was my mind, and even that was not completely my own.

         I had sensed it, sensed  _ him _ , growing like a dark, festering seed in the recesses of my mind where I dared not tread. I did not want to see them again. I did not want to remember. Even though the scars were indelible, I found if I buried them deep enough they did not rot in the open air. But now, he was there. I could feel him stirring, like a serpent uncoiling after a long nap on a sunkissed rock. A soft hum flitted through my unhearing ears, his hiss of announcement. 

_          What do you want? _ I spat to the nothing and the darkness flashed white. Ribbons exuded from thin air, weaving a knotted, stitched membrane as far as the my mind could sense. Without permission, it reached out and caressed my form, entangling me in his web until I was forced to choke upon his presence. It vanished as soon it came, leaving behind the bright outline of a man silhouetted against the black.

_           Why do you hurt? _ His form pulsed with each staccatoed syllable, as if it did not know. It did nothing to help my acerbic mood.  _ They would have turned on you. In a thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand years, they would have turned on you. _

_          They were my  _ **_friends_ ** _. _ I screamed, slamming my will through his body and twirling to find it unphased.  _ And you turned them into monsters. _

_They wouldn’t let me in. They wanted_ _too many things. I only want one thing. Is that not better?_ I seethed lashing out at him once more, but it was like a wave crashing through an open box; it merely passed through.

_           You erased them _ .

_           I am them. _

**_You are nothing like them_ ** **.** I bellowed.  _ They were kind. They were loving. They were thoughtful. _ He shuddered, like the sprite of a flame on a long-lit candle.

_         They were liars. They were distrusting. They were afraid of you. Afraid of me. _

_As they should have been._ I raged, the edges of his form blurring like tendrils of smoke as my fury mounted. _You took_ ** _everything_** _from them._

_         I gave everything they ever wanted to them. _

_         The only things you give are eternal misery and suffering. _ It’s head tilted, a beat of silence then -

_         You... hate me. _ Was that genuine surprise? Did he honestly think my last tirade was a byproduct of an adolescent mind? I had spent millenia trapped beneath stone and eager hands at his expense. He could not understand the shame or the agony of what I had endured, what  _ they _ had endured - nor why his refusal to act made it his fault.

_         You took everything I ever loved from me, and kept me from adoring that which came before. What did you expect? _ I hissed scathingly.

_         You’re afraid of me. _ He breathed and I realized he had been delving into my recent memories. I screeched in outrage at the intrusion, but I should have known better to feel safe here. My mind had never truly been my own.

_         You are a heartless monster. I would be a fool not to fear you. _ His form flickered, as if my words were a gust of wind. 

_         Am I a monster? _ He questioned to himself, turning away for a moment.  _ How can that be? I am not heartless. _

_         You are _ . He hesitated once more at my unfaltering conviction, then spoke the most heretical words I had ever heard. 

_         No. I am not. I have you, and I love you dearly, my daughter. _ My stomach churned long after his departure, leaving me to handle the confusion left by the wake of his pale, yet honest, emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating this for a little more than a week! I went out of town and got super sick coming back and was bed ridden for a couple days and really didn't want to write in that muddled state of mind that came after (it would have been utterly shitty and nonsensical). But I'm back! I should be uploading new chapters every other day again. Again, I'm terribly sorry for the impromptu hiatus.


	15. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can sense him here in the Nothing, despite doing everything I can to cast him out. I should have never let him in, in the first place. I have reduced his honeyed words to naught but binary once more, but it drones on eternally in the once silence of my mind.
> 
> 01000100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110010 01111001 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100111 01101001 01101110 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00111111
> 
> He tries to feed my his lies, but I will not respond to his baiting questions. There is nothing I wish to know less about than the Void. May it and he, rot and take reality with him. 
> 
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        He awoke feeling refreshed for once, stretching lazily amidst the comforts of his new bed, which resided in his new room, which held an _actual_ bookcase filled with books. Perhaps Fury didn’t hate him so much. More likely was the fact that Thor yanked some strings untactfully and landed him this cramped quarter for him to call his own. They hadn’t even installed cameras. Granted, it was much smaller than his chambers in Asgard - but his brother was right. It was a step in the right direction, albeit at a snail’s pace.

        He dressed, grinning from ear to ear as he made his way to the mess hall all by his lonesome. He didn’t even need his brother to escort him around now. It didn’t make the slop they handed him as food taste any better, but he didn’t feel like regurgitating it this time. It was a joy that would be sure to fade in time, but for now he would not kick it out the door.

        “Ah, good you’re awake.” Stark sat down across from him, stirring a messy, grainy soup. Oatmeal, they called it. It looked like pig slop. “You missed an interesting day.” Stark informed him absentmindedly whilst flipping through tabs on one of his handheld screens. He remained silent, nibbling on his food in the hopes that Stark would lose himself in whatever files he was sifting through. “Apparently, not only had she not seen before, but she hadn’t eaten either.”

        In truth he wasn’t surprised. If she hadn’t been allowed to open her eyes, why would they have allowed her to open her mouth, let alone ‘waste’ food? He might not have known those who had harmed her so, but he knew people like them.

        “She asked for you, you know.” Stark put down the tablet with a light rap on the table.

        “Did she now?”

        “She seemed sad. Regretful.”

        “I wonder why.” He intoned dryly, not giving to Stark’s incessant prying.

        “Are you two a thing, or something?” He choked on his water, sputtering it across into Stark’s oatmeal. “Thanks, Reindeer-Games.” Stark growled, setting his spoon down with a decisive clink.

        “Why would you even ask that? She’s been abused for how long and the first thing you do is try to objectify her and neatly find a place for her to belong, that suits your needs.”

        “Woah, easy there Loki. It was just a joke.” Stark raised his hands defensively. “What I meant was that she just seems to have taken an interest in you, that is all.” He grunted, tilting his glass up to swallow the rest of his water. “Besides, Jane is the closest person to her right now.”

        “Jane doesn’t exactly lie well.”

        “Is that why you think she likes Jane?” He shrugged, not caring to put much thought to it. “You know your brother almost killed her last night.” That gave him pause.

        “Jane? Or the Lamb?”

        “Lamb? Huh. You guys have interesting nicknames for each other. Anyways,” Stark continued, waving off any insulting remarks to come, “Thor almost broke the little Lamb’s neck last night. She did something to Jane. Innocuous, but it was startling enough to make him react without thinking.”

        “What did she do?” He asked raising his brow, hiding his concern for his little Lamb’s fragile neck. They should have known better than to let Thor in there with her. His brother was too quick to act.

        “She verified Jane was getting sick in a weird way. Placed her hand above Jane’s jugular and, bam, like that Thor had her pinned. What’s interesting though was that gamma radiation in the room spiked for a brief moment.”

        “Oh?” He tried to feign interest, but he could care less about their data. There she was again, his little Lamb, trying to help in small ways and getting beaten down once more.

        “Yeah. It’s been spiking all night long, just died recently when she awoke. Fury’s not letting anyone see her at the moment.” His lips tugged down of their own accord. “Speaking of Fury, he wanted to see you as soon as you were up.”

        “Of course he did.”

        “Better not keep him waiting.” Stark warned, getting up and leaving his cooling bowl of ruined oatmeal in search of a better meal.

         He grimaced to himself, rising and returning his tray like his brother had shown him. Thor was always insistent on following local customs, even if the others didn’t. _We’re better than them._ His brother’s words were a point of conflict for him. If they were truly better than them, why should they follow suit then? Shouldn’t the humans wait on them? He understood the chivalry behind it, but it held no great importance to him. Still, if it earned him ‘brownie points’ as Jane had put it, with his brother, he’d complete the menial task.

         Fury was at his office, for once. Usually, when he and Thor went to find him, Fury was speaking to the captain on the bridge, in a conference call in some forgotten office, or for some unknown reason roaming various ship sections. Fury liked keeping a personal eye (because he only had one) on everything. A rather infuriating habit when he was nowhere to be found.

        “Ah, Loki.” Fury smiled with the teeth of a hungry hyena as he walked in.

        “Stark said you asked for me.” He returned with a tight-lipped smile of his own.

        “Yes. There’s been some developments with the girl. Romanoff was able to get her to open up a little bit, and what we learned was… well. You’ll see for yourself.” Fury motioned a hand to the far wall where a flat, glossy pane of glass awaited him. “Just tap it to begin.”

        He did as he was instructed, the glass flickering to life and he found himself watching his little Lamb and the Widow converse over an odd assortment of lunch. It was rather boring at first, but then the Widow appeared to have struck a chord in the Lamb. She couldn’t help but echo snippets of her story in response, though it was painfully obvious she was withholding what she could. Her tone was scornful, like that of a disappointed instructor - nothing more. It was as if she had disconnected herself from the memories. A safety mechanism no doubt.

         “What is your take on it?”

         “So universe had a child. That’s unexpected.” He mused.

         “I meant on her story.”

         “Oh, she’s telling the truth.” He knew Fury only brought him in because no lie could fool the God of Mischief. “It doesn’t mean she’s telling all of it.” She wasn’t telling all of it. Lies of omission were common and yet often the craftiest.

        “Do you think we should be worried?” He turned back to a genuinely invested Fury.

        “You’re asking me?” He breathed in disbelief.

        “I see no one else in the room.”

        “Well…” He paced for a few moments behind the chairs across from Fury. “Worried about what?” It was a rather vague question. One should _always_ be worried about something. Fury merely raised an eyebrow. “The girl? No.” He scoffed despite his intense seriousness in the matter. “She wouldn’t harm a fly unless it bit her. It’s her supposed father I’m worried about.”

        “Oh?”

        “Drove the remains of an ancient, far advanced civilization to madness or worse?”

        “That is… concerning.” Fury admitted.

        “Yes.” He noted, but his mind was already elsewhere.

        “What is it?”

        “I don’t like it.”

        “What?”

        “This… Void. It twisted her mother into giving birth, yes?”

        “If we are to believe what she has told us.”

        “It killed the mother off shortly after. And the rest of the children, these _mediums_ , it did not look after either.”

        “But it did nothing to her.”

        “She even said that her Voided mother didn’t try to kill her.”

        “Perhaps the bond of motherhood, still fresh, kept her from doing so.”

        “Or perhaps, her father stopped the Voided from attacking.” Fury froze. “Whatever this _Void_ is, conscious universe or alternative dimension jargon you wish to tie it in, it’s _invested_ in her somehow. It’s keeping her alive for a reason. It wants something from her, but _what_?” He hissed to himself, frustrated at the puzzle set before him. There was no clear picture of what it was supposed to look like, nor was he sure he had all the pieces.

        “Hopefully our science team will find something soon. Though I’m beginning to think we’ll be finding a lot more questions than answers to begin with. In the meantime, she’s asked for you.” Fury informed him, the statement both borne of intrigue and mild distrust.

        “Yes, Stark briefed me over breakfast. He also said no one was allowed to see her.”

        “Last night’s debacle had me… on edge.” Fury admitted. “I am _still_ hesitant to send anyone in there, but I figured if you wanted a go at it, I’d let you.”

        “You mean to say you don’t care greatly if you lose me.” He grinned ferally. “No need to sugarcoat.”

        “You also know her the best out of everyone here, even Jane. If anyone can get her to actually talk, not just spout poetic horror stories, it would be you.”

        “Oh, but I like poetic horror stories.” Fury rolled his eyes at Loki’s mockery of a pout.

        “By all means, I’m sure the two you have plenty to share. Dismissed.” Fury growled, waving him sharply away.

         He left unperturbed by the informality of it all. They held no great love for each other, only a vexation bordering disrespect. Still, it pleased him greatly to be allowed greater freedom than the rest, even his own brother. In fact, their shared aggravation towards one another might have borne a rather tasteful fruit if he thought about it. It didn’t mean he _liked_ the man any more, but at the very least he appreciated him.

         His feet absentmindedly found their way to her room as he thought, a habit he picked up long ago whilst nipping at his brother’s noisome heels back in Asgard. It kept him sane during those years, drowning out the stupidity and general bullheadedness that was Thor. He adored his brother greatly, but the nagging thought that one day he would become just like Odin was one of his greatest nightmares. Odin was a heartless chump upon the throne of Asgard, sooner to mar the lives of others to create a peace that only Asgardians could abide by.

         He took in a breath through his teeth, whelving it to the dark corners of his mind where only Thanos and his own night terrors would bring it out on another, unassuming day. With a small rap of his knuckles upon the door he waited. And waited. And waited. Did she not hear him? Oh. He chided himself for being silly. She was a prisoner as he had been. He had the authority to let himself in, not the other way around.

         With the tap of the button, the door to her room slid open to reveal to his eager eyes his little Lamb once more. Her mouth was set into a frown of concentration, her gaze set upon the ground as if it moved beneath her, and her arms splayed like the wings of an eagle. With a steeling of conviction, she lifted her left leg and shifted her weight forward. Her frown flew upwards to a grin as her left foot hit the ground, her right following forward a moment later - a little less trepidation in her shoulders this time.

        She took another step, then another, and another; around in a little circle looping her bed on wheels she went until at last she thought to look up. Irises the color of crystallized snow bleeding lavender met his and he felt the wind knocked out of him. He had never seen someone so pulchritudinous. His heart flipped into his stomach as her stride continued without her intent, her leg trembling before the sudden realization in the moment and her knees gave of their own accord.

        Without thinking he was at her side, wincing at the thud of her knees upon the ground despite her silence. She was quivering under her gown as she pulled herself away from him with her arms, legs stirring, but useless, as they dragged to follow.

        “It’s okay, little Lamb.” He whispered, bending down to her level and extending a hand. She flinched a sudden dawning upon her face as she sat upright, tucking her knees in behind herself. So she did remember. Ah, well -

        “Wolf.” Her voice was diaphanous yet sounded the tintinnabulation of echoing bells within his mind. He could barely register anything other than her voice when he spoke. She blinked, face marred briefly in concern. Like clouds parting, the ringing in his mind erased and the gossamer of her voice dwindled to something just as auroral in tone, but only aloud to his ears. “Loki.” He breathed a sigh of relief at his name. It sounded wonderful, set loose from her tongue.

        “Are you doing this on purpose?” He inquired, shaking his head to keep himself from lurid thoughts.

        “Doing what?” She was as naive as a lamb indeed, his lips tugging up at the gentle thought.

        “Nevermind.” He waved her worry off, jerking his hand forward. “Are you going to take it?” Her eyes darted from his face to his hand multiple times before one of her own diffident hands stretched out. “I won’t bite.” He teased as she jumped at the initial contact, fingertips warm and unworn, like a babe’s. She had never used them before, had she?

        He made for her waist with his other free arm, but she shook her head and swatted the limb away as if it had offended her.

        “I want to stand.”

        “Your legs are too weak, little Lamb. It will -”

        “I don’t care if it hurts. I am not some spavined, moribund -” She snapped, eyes glistening as she snarled the words. Her face fell instantly in regret when he jerked at the acrid tone. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

        “It’s all right.” He huffed. He was used to far worse in any case. His arm reached across once more, and with a silent nod she acquiesced. “On your feet then.” He mumbled, lifting her till her feet rested upon the ground and her weight rolled back onto her heels. Her meager mass came folding back down onto his moments later, but for a solitary instant she stood once again.

        Her head bolted upright, eyes wide, and he realized she had not expected that.

       “Why don’t you rest your legs for a bit?” He motioned to the bed but his hopes died down with her unsatisfied lips. “Ah, I know.” With a flick of a finger he rolled the stool over and perched her atop of it. “Better?” She shifted upon the no doubt stiffer foam, wheels rocking as she did so. Satiated for the time being, she nodded.

        He took her former place upon the bed, leaning against its edge as she stared at him intently.

       “Ogling is rude.” He reminded her, amusedly recalling a similar situation before. Her cheeks fluttered pink, but she continued on otherwise unabashed.

       “Your eyes are pretty.” She murmured with a smile. “Medium sea green, 739D82.”

       “Ah, well thank -”

       “Much better than the awful Voided color. Ice blue does not suit you at all.” He chuckled quietly to himself. If only she knew how much blue actually _suited_ him.

       “I must say, you look much more… prepossessing like this as well.” She tilted her head in curiosity.

       “Do I?”

       “Metal isn’t really my thing.”

       “Nor mine.” She agreed, thoughts elsewhere for a moment. “Stark natters too much. As if by filling up the empty spaces with sound he will someday rise out of his pit.”

       “Not exactly what I was talking about, darling, but nonetheless true.” He coughed, set off track by her unnerving naivete.

       “Oh.” Her head straightened, back stiffening. “ _Oh_.” A solid blush heated her cheeks this time, and he found he loved its addition.

       “So demure, despite the fact you asked for me.” His scathing remark was lost on her, and he realized that he was in the wrong. She was not, in fact, fronting a mask as he had suspected.

       “Ah. Yes.” Her fingers twiddled nervously, her gaze once solely preoccupied with him flitted around the stark walls.

       “Well?” He wasn’t very patient. Her eyes found his again, this time staying despite her obvious instinct to tear them away.

       “I… wanted to… apologize.” Each word was drawn out like thread from a tangled knot.

       “Oh.” He breathed, witty remarks failing him in his moment of need. He hadn’t expected this.

       “I’m sorry. For lashing out at you that night. You meant well, and I had been forcing myself to believe that you were something that you were not, and it scared me when you weren’t, and -” She rambled, barely inhaling as she wracked her brain to explain every moment, every sensation that terrified and threatened to drown in her night until - “And so, I’m sorry. I called you a monster, and you aren’t a monster. I _know_ it hurt, and I’m sorry. I- I -” He shushed her with a finger against her lips and they both startled.

        He wasn’t even conscious that he had moved until her lips parted underneath its gentle caress.

       “You only have to say sorry once, little Lamb.”

       “But -” He enveloped her in a tentative hug. Not the engulfing whelm of arms and muscle that his brother liked to besiege people with, nor the comforting firmness of his mother’s dainty arms. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing. He just didn’t want her to see him shed a tear over something that should have been beneath him.

       “Ah. Well, now that _that_ is cleared between us, what do you say - what’s wrong?” He mentally cringed, hoping he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries with the excessive physical contact.

       “You smell different than the others.” He pursed his lips, running a hand through his hair as he returned to his spot leaning against the bed. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Not like salt or,” her nose wrinkled, “ _something_. You smell… sweet? Is that from eating cake?”

       “Ah, no.” He chortled quietly, failing to suppress an amused smile. “That’s because, little Lamb, _I_ take showers.


	16. Empath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate him, the man who calls me his daughter. I have watched the burgeoning world, and I know now he is not my father. A father cares. A father loves. A father protects. He has done none of these things, therefore he cannot be my father. By the same token, I cannot be his daughter. If I was his daughter, I would love him. If I was his daughter, I would obey him. I cannot be his daughter, for I have done neither. 
> 
> But then, comes the conundrum of his punishment.
> 
> It is a father’s place to guide the daughter, to punish her if she steps astray. I know his mind. It is how he sees me, what has directed his unseen hand. Which is the truth and which is the lie? I cannot tell where reality splits into delusion anymore. All I know is the poisonous seed in my core, whispering to me what I need to survive.
> 
> I hate him. I must hate him.  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        They talked for hours until the growling in his stomach grew loud enough for her to hear - which startled him because he could barely sense it, let alone hear it himself. She sent him away after that, refusing to rejoin in their previous colloquy until he had looked after himself. A rather stubborn little Lamb, he found out. Still, the sentiment of shepherding others only solidified the fact that he had nothing to fear from _her_. That, however, did not mean she was not dangerous.

        There were times when he caught a flash of something feral in her eyes of lavender moonglade, a yearning that died - either natural or unnatural he did not know - as quickly as it came. At others, her smile broke, widened, tips curling upwards like that of a deranged animal - but never too far as to show teeth. Despite this, he felt compelled to stay and chat - a second longer, a minute longer, and hour longer. She seemed to have an affect on him,  just like she had the others, yet she was none the wiser. In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter if she knew or understood. He wasn’t resisting to begin with.

         Drawn like a moth to flame, he returned to drink in her presence. Each time she startled, questioning if his time was spent better elsewhere than with their thief turned prisoner. Each time he assured her there was nowhere he’d rather be for the time being. Each time, until at last she grew to expect his arrival and greeted him not in surprise, but with a smile brighter than the dawns that came before.

         Was it her smile that made his mind up, that walked his feet to the her door? Her mellifluous voice that shed more light upon his thoughts than he cared to admit aloud? Was her unnatural beauty, still clad simply in a wisp of a gown that he was growing to abhor? No, of course not. That would make him witless, like the rest of the dawdling humans. She happened to be the most powerful and interesting being on the planet, her attractiveness was only an added benefit. He was no fool. He sensed the magic swirling around her the moment he stepped into the her room for the first time. He was impressed how she shielded the outside from her influence and how she deluded the others into believing it their own fault for losing control of their emotions at times.

         Still, without fail, he returned to her side. Sometimes there were others and he was merely a figure in her peripherals, reading silently trying to gauge her reactions. Jane tipped her off balance. Jane didn’t need to be prompted, her thoughts twisted and molded, into opening herself up like some of the others. The little Lamb knew not how to respond to Jane’s uncaring honesty, her innocence. Innocence and naivety. Two very similar chords, yet the distinction between them was clear when they sat in the room together.

         He watched her world grow with each passing day, akin to a child almost. No longer did she explore the world of colors and toothsome meals, but the tactile sensations of velvet and silk; the adorableness of a kitten’s first mewls and the horrible hiss of a snake’s last warning. It was of particular interest when she did not shudder at the snap of a snake’s jaws like Jane had. Was it that awful naivete again? No, her delicate smile told him it was not.  Her inquisitiveness did not end with that was deemed ‘good’ by the common rabble. She cared just as much for the viper as she did the helpless ball of fluff. Not a natural reaction, though he supposed she had millennia within the pod to learn of the horrible ways of the natural world. Now, she was merely putting images to them.

         The Widow was quick to comment on this when she heard, but her disdain was washed away by the Lamb with the slightest drizzle of rain. It was difficult goad the Lamb into responding to a negative reaction, though the Widow still tried. Why, the Lamb questioned the Spider with an unnerving smile. Was it not natural? The Widow reluctantly agreed, and, like before, it was the Lamb that pushed the issue further, revealing that, in her opinion, there was nothing to be loathed about the natural order of things. Death came to all things, and she did not see the issue in a messy, suffering demise if that was the intended order of the universe. It was the unnatural, how a race vied with itself for power, how it consumed needlessly, how it carved out great swaths of land, forever unsatiated - that was her anathema.

         He asked her the following day if that meant she hated humanity, hated Earth, for she had spoken of the horrible deeds they had done. She was swift to remind him that all civilizations had done so at one point in time. Perfection was an ideal to strive for, but never one could obtain. To know beauty, one must know ugliness - and it is ugliness that almost always comes first. But then came the question: how did she know of the works of other civilizations?

         Her mouth for once clamped shut around him, catching the mistake after it was already cast, as he continued on the thread he had found, knowing that the relationship he had built with his little Lamb was filipendulous at best. But he couldn’t resist. Like a Wolf spurred on by the scent of his prey’s blood he gave chase. He expected her deny him, to cast him out and recede into the far hinterlands of her mind, places where he’d like to think the Void had not touched. But she remained in the present. She remained with him. In that terrified moment of vulnerability, she reached out to him. Not in the physical. He felt it, her mind intently prodding his rather than passively observing. Then she nodded, and at last she looked up, her gaze clearer than ever before.

         She had embraced the Wolf, let it sink its teeth into her wool, piercing the soft skin beneath to draw the sweet blood that flowed with more power the two Stones he once held.

         Where once she was hesitant she found resolve. Why he did not bother to question. What mattered is that she was unfurling her protections for just few seconds. She had seen. For in a sense the Void that traveled between was as much a pair of eyes as were the puppets he met before. The thought was electrifying. It stopped his heart in terror and sent a thrill of excitement through his veins: the Void was not a solitary, hidden denizen of this universe but of all the multiverse. Not merely woven beneath it as a foundation, but through it to hold it together. It was how the Tesseract could open portals so easily across the multiverse without complications and how she came to glimpse the growth of the multiverse as a whole.

         A thousand more questions were lying in wait at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them with a small nod of gratitude as he patted her hands. She flinched, but relaxed after a few more beats when he returned to his musings. He knew better than to push too far now. She had strived to trust him, and he was beginning to understand the value of trust. He would not waste it foolishly, like he had so many others before. She could be exceedingly useful, he reasoned. If she could fully control the Stones without the Gauntlet, her potential was limitless.

         And so, he remained her constant companion - though recently she had been getting visits from others who had steered clear before, and he wasn’t sure he approved. Captain America was one she could most definitely go without. The soldier patronized her on the morality of her actions, attempted to sway her by grand notions of _freedom_ and _justice_ every chance he got. As if his country’s ideals even existed anymore. Even Steve was beginning to doubt, and she saw through his charade with ease. But she did not dissuade him in his delusional outlook.

         Still, despite his crestfallen attempts at riling her alongside him, Steve still visited much to his disdain. He brought her things outside of her normal meals, despite Fury’s disapproval. A pillow for her head, a warmer blanket, even a wicker chair - practical things that she used everyday and no doubt reminded her of Steve. It irked him. _He_ should have thought of that. But he wasn’t exactly one to give gifts. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t allowed outside the Helicarrier much, and when it was it wasn’t alone. He didn’t even have money, and with Thor around thievery wasn’t an option.

        The only things he had that were his were the clothes on his body, the spares in his closet, and the fifty or so books that Stark had oh so graciously donated to him. He had read them each dozens of times now, flipping through them absentmindedly when others were about her. Then, out of the blue, she asked about them. He dismissed it as smalltalk until she pressed for more, standing and turning her back to her guest at the time, Clint. He let her borrow it, thinking nothing of it as he and Clint left for dinner only to return without her accustomed greeting as she was far too engrossed in the pages.

         Without thinking he offered her more, and before he could protest he found his whole collection now housed in her cell of a room, littered around her lone wicker chair that more often than not he now found her asleep in, clasping a fanned book in one hand. She didn’t ask Steve about more chairs, or types of chairs, or pillows, or blankets. But everyday she inquired more about his books, like an eager child who wanted to be tucked in with a bedtime story, even when he had nothing more to give.

         Books he had read, his favorite books, his hated books - until at last he was telling her the stories he could remember, being them fiction or works of science and technology. He asked her why it piqued her interest so, when she knew all these things before hand. But it was different, she whispered to him solemnly, the naivete fading for the briefest of moments. Knowing and feeling were different. She had never known the life stories had buried within them, or the puzzling conundrums of philosophy, nor the exhilarating rush that came with concluding a mathematical statement that summarized existence. It had all been reduced to data, a black and white world where ideas were merely ones or zeros.

         He was pleased to find that she was an intellectual at heart, but surely there were other interests she wished to dip her toes in. Something that whetted her appetite that he could offer her, to garner her continuing interest and further her reliance upon him. Her small smile made his chest twinge uncomfortably. There were many things she wanted to do. She wanted to swim, she wanted to chase after birds, she wanted to dance, she wanted to feel the cool rain on her skin - all things he so flippantly took for granted. She wanted to experience the world at large, but she told herself it could not be. The world existed outside her door, a place where she did not belong.

         It grieved him to find her thinking of this room of hers just another pod. A larger one, one where she was allowed to walk about and use her body. A pod where she was allowed to eat and talk and feel, but still just a pod where people peered in, where people poked and prodded her at odd hours to take measurements and tests. She was grateful they allowed her consciousness, but despite all the time spent in the company of kind people she dared not to hope for more. Despair was ingrained into her being it appeared.

         He knew the emotion all too well. It had drowned him, changed him to its whim until he no longer recognized the scathing, spiteful man he saw in the mirror. Where was the joke in his witty remarks now? The mirth had been replaced by malice, and he could not fault Thanos’ prior interference - not entirely.

         Thanos could only drudge up what lurked deep inside. This was a side of him too, he realized in the midst of his torture. A side he wanted to disown, to hide, but a side that was much a part of him as his mother’s nervous habits. He could not simply throw them away. He _was_ sinister, he  _was_ predatory. It was in his nature to bend something to his will, to manipulate things. It wasn’t always right, nor did he always show it. Thor didn’t understand, merely accepted it as part of his bloodline, his heritage. But it ran deeper than that. Blood and ancestry had nothing to do with the shadows in his heart.

         The Lamb understood that. She didn’t shy away at the darkness when it surfaced, like the others were prone to doing. Sometimes, the others struck back. It didn’t hurt in the moment, but hours later in his room he would berate himself over his foolish lack of self-control. He was a _god_ amongst mortal men. He knew better. He _was_ better. But she… she took him as he was in each passing moment. When he lashed out with boiling remarks she laughed along to the madness, soothing him until he returned the mischievous glint in his eye.

         She was everything he needed: naive, powerful, and clear minded.

         It had been months now, and he still found his desire to apricate in her silver glow growing. Attachment was a two way street afterall. Nearly four months since their first, strained encounter that left his mind muddled. Three months since her awakening, since her mending. And he still didn’t know much about her. But he didn’t care. For once he had some semblance of a friend. Not the kind seeking to use him just as he did them, but one who genuinely wasn’t disturbed by his presence.

         Fury and the others weren’t pleased, of course. They wanted facts. They wanted her name. They wanted to know what she capable of, both now and prior. They wanted to know what those metal, now decidedly not metal, bodies were. What _they_ were capable of. Why they were made of flesh, and how they morphed somehow into an exoskeleton stronger than vibranium. More than anything, they wanted to know where the Infinity Stones, her so called Void Stones, were. And she had not uttered a peep further about any of those subjects and he did not have the guts to pry. Not against her. There was something sinister just waiting in the pools of her naivete and he did not want to be the one to release it.

         She was close now, closer than he anticipated letting her get to him. It had taken months, but now she knew him, understood him, better than his own brother, perhaps even his own mother. Was that what she wanted in the first place? A refuge under the waiting jaws of a Wolf, where no one else would dare try and snatch her in fear of getting bitten in her stead? She was cunning, that much he knew. He would not put it past her, but he would not delude himself into believing she did it out of malevolence. She was still just a Lamb, but they did not see it.

         There were too many loose ends that all trailed back to her. The Orisha and the Originators to begin with, a mythology that had shaped much of the Greek and Egyptian history as well as Wakandan religion. Her silent hand left its mark upon human civilization without anyone noticing until now. Now, Strange had confirmed that it was more than that.

         The Doctor was secretive by nature, untrusting of the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. . Worse yet was his distaste for otherworldly presences such as him and his brother. Even the little Lamb was not spared from the Doctor’s ire. He wanted them - him, his brother, and her - understood and then gone. Earth wasn’t safe with them here. What Strange failed to see was that Earth wasn’t safe without them here either. Nor did the Doctor see that he was being hypocritical, drawing on mystical power from otherworldly beings he called the Vishanti. Strange didn’t get to pick and choose what entities were benign and which ones were malignant. He didn’t get to choose which came and went. No one did. Not even the gods.

         He arrived just as Steve swerved out of the doorway, receiving not even a passing greeting from the normally polite man as he brushed past. Instinctively he knew something was amiss, rushing in to find her staring blankly at the doorway, silent rivulets dripping off her chin. It was not the first time she had cried. Her emotions flowed vividly and wild, and it was with difficulty that she was learning to control them.

         “What’s wrong? What did Steve do?” He began softly, taking a mental note to snub Steve later. It was ill-mannered to leave a lady in such a state, Steve of all people here should know that with how much a gentleman he attempted to be.

         “Why didn’t you tell me?” She murmured, a pain akin to betrayal flooding her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself.

         “Tell you what? What’s wrong?” It was not the first time she pouted about his secrecy, but it certainly was the most emotional.

         “That they’re mad at you.”

         “Someone is always mad at me.” He assured jestingly, but it did little to ease her mood. “But who is mad at me this time, darling?”

         “Fury.”

         “Ah.” She had always known what the others wanted, what they all wanted - just not how badly they coveted it. He tried to keep that from her. It would only get in the way, causing her retreat into the shell of her sealed lips.

        “Why didn’t you tell me?” She reiterated, the words gurgling up her throat.

        “Shhh.” He soothed, tugging at her rigid fingers bent into her arms until she let go to reveal crescents of swelling red liquid. “Because you’d be upset, just like you are now.”

        “I’m _upset_ because they’ll hurt you.” He blinked, perplexed. Hurt him?

        “They won’t even leave scratches if they try, darling.”

        “I don’t care.” She hissed, yanking out of his grasp.

        “Lamb -”

        “You’re my _friend_ .” She cried, butterflies fluttering in his chest. _Friend_. “I won’t let them hurt you.” She growled with as much malignity in it as determination.

        “Lamb -”

        “Father took everything away from me! Everything precious.” She was in the early throws of a panic attack he realized, gulping down air as her eyes went wild. This was not the first time she had grown accustomed to someone’s presence and lost it, he realized. Perhaps there was more to her puppets than she let on.

        “He isn’t here.” It wasn’t technically true, but for now those words were a small comfort. Her breathing evened, though her chest still heaved in swelling tides as she nodded curtly in agreement as she continued to swallow anxiously.

        “That doesn’t mean the others won’t take you from me.” She attested. He opened his mouth to placate her, fishing for words but then came to the stark realization that she was right. Fury could ban him from seeing her if he wished. The others would see to it that it was upheld, even if they disagreed with the order. He highly doubted Fury would do such a thing, but she was right that it was possibility. “Take me to him.” She was adamant in her command, hands fisted in resolve.

        “I don’t think you’re allowed out of your room, Lamb.” He deadpanned.

        “I don’t care. Take me to him.” She demanded, and he found himself alarmingly pleased with the drastic course of events. It wasn’t what he anticipated, and though not all surprises were enjoyable he would never gripe about getting more than what he strove for.

        “As you wish.” He offered a small smile with his arm. He was precious to her, enough so for her to take a stand for him. That was more than he had ever hoped to achieve a few months in. Everything was going according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double upload since I was busy last night and won't be here tomorrow! Have a happy Easter / April Fool's day!


	17. The Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be cunning, one must be delusional. To be delusional, one must be part insane. My brother taught me this, not by word but through action. He taught me the strength of a lie was in how well you believed it. Sincerity and conviction could fool anyone, even your own conscious mind. It was the subconscious, ever watchful and never sleeping, that one had to worry about. 
> 
> To give them time to think, to muse, was to give their subconscious enough time to stumble upon the trap. Therefore, the easiest way to maintain duplicity was to contain their freedom of thought. 
> 
> I have thought, in the lightless dark for over two millennia. I sense the truth behind the veil. But I will not pierce it. To shatter the glass is to drown. Instead, I will wait. Without survival there is no hope for insanity. Without insanity, I cannot be delusional. Without the delusion, I cannot be cunning. My brother taught me this. I will show him I learned the lesson.  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        I had not met the man called Fury for he had never come to visit, though they all had spoken of him briefly in passing. He was everything I expected - stern, serious, and dangerous - and yet... not. There was an air of acceptance that floated around him, a wit to his words, a smile he kept tucked away in the corners of his greying beard. His lone eye passively observed me, waiting, just as my two did him.

        “For one demanding to see me, you’re doing an awful lot of staring.” His humor was dry, but it made my lips twitch all the same.

        “There’s something different about you.” I could feel it thrumming within him, whooshing with every beat of his heart like the steady beat of a bird’s wings. “A song unsung, yet the unending rhythm remains.”

        “Is she always like this?” Fury turned to Loki who I had requested remain present.

        “Ah… no?”

        “You have a piece of the Void in you.” I murmured at last. “Distorted and drawn out until it is rendered innocuous yet retains its potency.” Fury tensed, shooting a glance at Loki behind me.

        “Oh I do love secrets.” I could feel the grin stretching in Loki’s voice.

        “Perhaps, Loki, you should leave -”

        “No. He stays.” I cut in. It crucial Loki stayed. Fury could not refute what I spouted if the Wolf could not find the lies in my honesty. And, if things went south I needed a way out. I had… faith, that he would protect me. I could not persuade Fury so easily with a dead piece of deadened Void within him. This would have to be dealt with the old-fashioned way. I was a bit out of practice, but perhaps this was for the best. I couldn’t keep them all under my spell for much longer.

        “The Lady wishes me to stay.” Loki reasoned smugly.

        “He will not speak of it. I will not let him.” I assured Fury.

        “Hey now -” I muzzled the Wolf with a thought for show, sending Fury into a bout of coughing to poorly hide his chuckle. “That was  _ rude _ .” He hissed as I released him, claiming the chair next to me and glaring across his fidgeting knee.

        “I’m sorry.” He grunted, taking his eyes elsewhere for the time being, but I knew there would be repercussions later. The Wolf did not like feeling vulnerable, especially to me. But for now, my point had been proven. That was all that mattered.

        “They called it the Infinity Formula, among other things.” Fury relented when I silently urged to know why his blood rang with power.

        “Ah, yes. That name does ring a bell.” Derived by a young and prodigious Sir Isaac Newton, though it found no pertinent use until the formula found it ways into the hands of Sternberg who modernized it into both boon and bane. A serum that gave life everlasting if taken properly, consistently. If not? Death. Other cases, it worked as a truth serum. Yet in others, a painkiller. And in still others, a pain inducer. The Void was many things, distilling it did not change that. I wondered how many uses had they found since the drug passed from my conscious interest.

        “I should remind you that we are not here to talk about me.” Fury pointedly prompted me to stay on course. His time was precious, it could not be wasted even on one such as myself. Perhaps if this had been scheduled, but he was irritated when Loki showed up unannounced with me in tow. We were lucky Fury didn’t have us jailed on sight I suppose.

        “I will not answer everything.”

        “Not now, you mean.” I gave a single, hesitant nod of agreement. That statement could be molded into something useful. Ten thousand years from now was  _ not now _ . I could find someone I trusted eventually, most likely, to fulfill that statement.

        “Very well. Let us start with something simple.” Fury pulled out a simple sheet, covered in letters and boxes, spaces to write. How typical. So I was to be neatly filed away then, was I? “Name?”

        “Unimportant. Next.” I refrained from rolling my eyes, knowing he would not take it well. Of course he would start with that of all things.

        “It’s your  _ name _ .” He deadpanned.

        “And you have not earned it.” I retorted. Names were meaningless. The moment you identified yourself to those constricting syllables you were doomed to fade eventually. Even my nickname disturbed me slightly, but I supposed they needed to define me in some fashion. He huffed, glancing down at the next blank space. At least he knew better than to pester me about inconsequential things. 

        “How old are you?” I wasn’t sure why that was important. I could be as old as him, and it would not change what or who I was, nor stem the pulse of energy in my veins.

        “Ah… let me think. My body is four thousand three hundred and sixty two years old.” I asserted with confidence.

        “Your… body?”

        “Time is distorted during transference. A moment here is enough for millions to pass within - ah.” I blurted without thinking. Clever man. Or perhaps I was a foolish girl. So easy to get lost in the simple questions that were supposed to hold no real substance or meaning to you. Fury would be sure to gobble it up no doubt.

        “Transference, you say?” Fury scribbled a small note at the bottom of the page. “Is that what you call it?  _ Transferring _ consciousness into otherwise inanimate object.”

        “Not quite.” I winced, unable to stop myself from correcting him. It didn’t matter. His mind wouldn’t be able to grasp the concept anyways. I would merely be describing the ineffable to him. “But close enough.”

        “What would you describe it as?”

        “A diminished state of your supposed  _ Nirvana _ .  _ You _ cease to exist, but there is not nothing - but not everything - in its place.” Not that, that was an apt description. Of course you couldn’t cease to exist. But… in a sense, you did when you took the will of another as your own. Or perhaps, not as your own. Coexistence and dominance were often at ends, yet transference made them one and the same. 

        “Okay, yeah. That doesn’t make any sense.” Fury muttered in agreement, heading on to the next question. It daunted him, the fact that the more he asked, even as simple of questions as these, he found no answers. At least, not the ones he sought after. Nothing… concrete. But the Void wasn’t concrete. It flowed like a raging river with all the strength of the foundations of mountains. It was as malleable as his formula.

        “Race?” Not such a simple question.

        “I am… unsure. I am an amalgamation, unique and solitary.” Genetically, I was alone. Though the based of my genetic code was my mother’s and my mother’s alone, the Void had twisted it to its whim until I was something else entirely.

        “What was your mother then? What were her people called?”

        “They called themselves the Orokin. The Golden Ones, in their tongue. They lived sybaritic lives at the expense of others, be it other races or those they deemed lesser of their own kind. They were powerful and rapacious, swift to dole out cruel punishments to those that rose against them - be it from within or without. But it was only a matter of time before they imploded. A million rats can overrun and consume a jaguar alive.”

        “That they can.” Fury mumbled, perturbed, under his breath. I was making him uneasy. Good. “And what of your father?” My eyes narrowed. It was a subject I wished to ignore, but I could see how he thought it valuable.

        “What of him?”

        “What is he like?” Did he truly not understand?

        “Worse than the Orokin. A true monster. Heartless. Formless. Nameless. He is what subverted them to their eventual ruin, whispering in their ears as they slept amidst the stones they hewn from his unending body.”

         “It sounds to me he was merely reclaiming what was his.” I stiffened at his apathetic criticism. He had not seen, he had not  _ lived _ , through the horrors my father oh so generously gifted.

         “Reclaiming is one thing, avenging another. What he did was neither.”

         “And what about you then?”

         “What about me?”

         “He cared enough to create you.” It took a moment for his vacuous statement to hit home. When it did, I burst into a fit of crazed laughter. “I hardly see the joke.”

         “I  _ am _ the joke.” I beamed cynically at him as I wiped a tear from my eye. “I am the last vestige of the Orokin, pure and undiluted in body without the heart and soul of those that came before. I am a being created to last for eternity for one thing, and one thing only: to suffer for their transgressions. I exist so that I might gain something precious, the struggle between the Orokin and the Void reborn as he rips it away time and time again. He will continue to do so until he is whole.” Beside me Loki shifted uncomfortably. He need not worry in actuality, but I was glad his concern prompted this meeting. Jane needed to, however.

         “Is that why you took the Infinity Stones? To satiate him? To make him whole?”

         “No. I took them to save others from the same fate as the Orokin.” I confessed solemnly. “They were cruel, but they did not deserve such a fate. He does not see it as such, of course. Nor does he see anyone in current possession of a Stone… forgivable.” It was only a half truth, but one that would pass by Loki’s gaze without raising alarm.

         “So, just to clarify, there is no chance of getting them back?” I couldn’t fathom his audacity.

         “Are you so dead set on ending humanity, that which you are suppose to safeguard?” I gaped in disgust.

         “Just answer the question.” Fury laced his fingers together atop his desk like a prayer.

         “No, you not be getting them back.” I snapped. “If you wish to ascend to the lofty peaks of power, climb them with your own hands.” 

         “We might not get a chance.” Fury countered. “Loki tells me of your half-brother, Thanos.”

         “He is Voided now.” I corrected with great pain.

         “Yes. So I’ve heard vicariously. Regardless of what he is, he has an army and he’s dead set on acquiring the Stones. Four of the six were last spotted here, on Earth. While Loki was… under his control,” He seemed to detest the notion, as if the Wolf would bow to another so willingly. But Fury had never been Linked, had he? “, Thanos was set on conquering Earth. There is a fleet of hundreds of thousands of Chitauri and Skrull headed by Thanos and his lieutenants bearing this way now. Thousands of Leviathans the length of skyscrapers, soldiers whose armor cannot be pierced - you tell me how we are to defeat them and you’re free to go.” He jabbed a finger down upon his desk.

        “You can’t.” I stated the obvious.

        “We have to.” Fury grit. I grimaced at his determination. The fire in his eyes was so lovely to look at it, it made me want to believe that I too could have convictions of my own despite my own leash. I teetered on the brink of remaining a helpless little lamb and baring my teeth as I had before. Beside me, Loki began picking at his left hand and I realized then that perhaps there was a chance.

         “I-I’ll do it.”

         “You will?” Loki sputtered in alarm.

         “I won’t return the Stones, but I will grant you the victory the you seek if protection is truly all you are hoping for in this situation.” It was a high stakes gamble, but perhaps Fate would be kind for once. Besides, there was hardly a difference in the endings between failure and not taking the leap.

         “It isn’t everything we ever wanted, but for now I suppose we’ll settle for it.” Fury grimly nodded. “And what do you want in return?” I paused to think, masking my surprise at being offered something of value as payment. I had not thought that such a thing would be offered given that I thought it obvious I was doing this for my own reasons. But what would be useful?

         “Give Loki his freedom.” I answered carefully.

         “Sweetheart, he’s wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Fury warned.

         “No. He’s just a wolf.” I opposed, but Fury did not give. “Very well, if humanity’s continued survival is worth keeping one Asgardian prince a prisoner, then -” Fury’s growl cut me short.

         “Fine.” He huffed. “So long as you uphold your end of the bargain, Loki will no longer be considered a high-risk threat and be welcomed as one of our own.” Good. His freedom and continued appreciation would prove useful. On the chance that it didn’t, well, at least someone benefited from this.

         “And in the meantime?” I furthered with a delicate eyebrow.

         “I will allow him greater freedoms.” Fury managed through clenched teeth.

         “And a budget.” 

         “You want me to  _ pay _ him?”

         “He’s been helping you free of charge for the past how many months? Admit it: you would have never gotten to me without him. Don’t take that as a compliment, Loki. I’m still mad about that, about  _ this _ . That being said, I do not condone slavery.”

         “Fine! I’ll pay him!” Fury was vexed to no end. Ah, how I loved being the annoying gnat he couldn’t swat. “What next? Do you want me to give him a pair of daggers so he can stab the rest of us in the back with them?” I smirked, but managed to cage the chuckle bubbling up.

         “That would be lovely, but no. I believe he can summon those himself.” Loki was snickering beside me, only calming when Fury attempted to kill him with a single stare.

          “Anything  _ else _ ?”

          “I believe that will be all.” I could not think of what else to add that would irk Fury further without pushing him too far.

          “Good.” He spat. “And -

          “Director Fury.” The door to his office slammed open to reveal a panting man.

          “For fuck’s sake, what is it now?” I stiffened at the crassness of his words. The others had not cursed so avidly in front of me before.

          “There’s a problem.” Obviously. “The… the m-machine is awake.” Machine? The way he said that… it didn’t sound right. Like - oh no. What had they brought back from the Valley? I knew they were keen on understanding those I once held dear, but I thought them too heavy to move from the shielded Valley.

          I loosed my mind, dismayed to find a siren’s call emanating from below. I had been too absorbed in resolving this in a manner that proved beneficial to all affable parties that I had lost track of the ebb and flow of latent energy in the air. It was practically humming on the tip of my tongue as I chewed it to numb the tingling and my anxiousness. This certainly was a wrench in my plans. It was good I had just chosen my first tenuous ally, even if it was Loki.

         “Awake you say? Isn’t it strapped down?”

         “It set it self loose somehow. It’s shattered the glass, and the blast doors are down but I’m not sure how long those will hold.”

         “Why aren’t the alarms going off then?” 

         “I’m not sure, sir. But we’ve evacuated the floor just in case, and -”

         “You brought one back.” I whispered the horrible truth. I knew the signs all too well.

         “We have to understand, we have to learn.” Fury tried to pardon his actions, but he could not understand danger he just put his crew in.

         “You don’t understand.” I yelled, rising to my feet. Perhaps I should have been more proactive in dissuading their attempts to use the Void and its tools, but I thought them wiser than  _ this _ . “It’s supposed to be  _ gone _ . There is nothing to inhabit it now. It’s just an empty shell, like the others, like - oh no, no, no, no.” I had to get down there. I had to stop it. Stop her. No, she was gone. Long gone. I had seen to that. It was him, now. I had to stop  _ him _ .

         “Look, it’s fine. There’s half a foot of vibranium for it to chew through, thanks to T’Challa. It -”

         “Will go through that like  _ butter _ .” I wheezed, trying to pinpoint its location. No, no, no,  _ yes _ . There. Four floors down. I could feel it’s attention darting around as, behind a mere wall of glorified metal, frenzied ants scurried past. That floor was going to be a bloodbath soon. “I have to get down there.” I breathed, bolting out the door.

         “Somebody stop her!” Fury’s demand echoed down the hall, the reverb chasing me with Loki nipping on my heels. But it was too late. I knew it even as I dropped down the stairwell, uncaring of how my legs screeched from the impact I did not spare the time to lessen. There was red tingling the periphery of my apprehensive mind; blood had already been shed, it’s coppery scent flooding my nostrils through the vents.

         Screams wafted through the locked door to the stairwell, like fervent prayers to a malevolent god. Hoping, bargaining, pleading for mercy as they crushed one another to get closer to the shut door - as if their added fists would bring it down. 

         “Lamb, what’s going on?” Loki growled, the daggers he had so lovingly told me about ready to plunge into my spine. “What’s on the other side of that door?” I didn’t answer him, daring him to push the blades between the vertebrae as I know he was practiced to do, as I placed my right hand upon the door’s console and willed it open. “Don’t you dare -” I couldn’t catch his words over the stampede of shrieking sheep that tore us apart, dragging Loki halfway up the next flight of stairs while I was rammed repeatedly into the wall.

          I grit my teeth, pushing past the last few stragglers into the ghost town of a corridor. It looked far worse than it actually was, thankfully. Only one had been killed so far, arms sundered at the joints and ripped apart like chicken wings. One of their legs was sliding down the wall to join the other, toppling into the man’s parted ribcage. It had been a quick death, with little suffering. The gore was thanks to my father’s… inquisitiveness. The next victim might not be so lucky.

         “Please. It’s  _ me _ .” A terrified, choked call came from around the corner. I  _ knew _ that voice. Of course he’d corner her given the chance. She probably tried to calm it, _him_ , down thinking it was me. Foolish little girl. My blood surged, a horrible sloshing in my ears as I darted to the crossroads and skidded to a halt as I turned to face the sound.

          “Lamb - Odin preserve me.” Loki cut himself short as he came into view of the carnage, but the sight hidden from his eyes was far worse.

          I had never seen one of my puppets before. The Avengers had kept their visage a secret from me. I knew why now. I innately recognized the one before me, glittering gold and harsh porcelain white under the pale fluorescent lights. My dear, sweet, Mirage. But she was no longer even that. She - it - was cold and unnaturally human in nature. A mockery of their form and many forms before. There was no beauty in its appearance no longer, crimson streaked limbs bulging as if they might burst from inner pressure. He had  _ ruined _ her, just as he did any body he inhabited.

          He turned, letting go of the object of my fear as he did so, and  _ grinned _ . The act was horrifying. They were never meant to have orifices. They were not designed as such. But still it smiled, the coated surface of its head creaked as it stretched and warped to give way to the shadow of upturned lips. Then, it peeled open, inch by inch by sordid inch, until it at last it bared its shark-like maw. I shuddered, reminding myself that this what my father did.  _ This _ was his ultimately cruelty. 

          His smile was not a greeting, not of the kind the others gave. I reciprocated the gesture, lips curving up to reveal my own set of pearly white teeth. This was not his domain, I would not back down so easily.

          “Loki!” The woman whimpered from behind the towering, Voided puppet.

          “Jane?!” Loki exclaimed from behind my left shoulder, finally having braved the pooling blood. The dead were dead. There was no point in sparing them a second glance in a moment such as this unless you wished to join them. “Lamb, what is that?” He motioned to my former Mirage with a timid dagger.

         “ _ That _ … is my father. Now listen very closely to what I’m about to say.”


	18. Awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One, two, three. One, two three. 
> 
> Step, step, twirl. Step, step, twirl. 
> 
> I loved this. Dancing in the darkness, lit only by stars, to the beat of the thrum of the earth and the buzz of the sky. I mimicked the humans as best I could, though their bodies were better suited for graceful, elegant lines than these frames of metal. I’d like to think, however, if I had a body of my own I could keep up with them, to pirouette until sunrise in the arms of another and greet the dawn with an exhausted smile.
> 
> Step, step, twirl. Step, step, dip -
> 
> I flipped, catching myself as I fell from my lean. But there was no other, just as there was no celebration, just as there was no sun. The music that I swayed to was hollow and soundless. I was alone.  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        Everything would have gone moderately all right, considering the short notice. Loki would have been able to grab Jane and make a dash for a door while I held the Voided Mirage at bay. He would have locked us in here, together, until command regained control of this floor. A terrifying few hours, but necessary ones. As for me? Well. I’d most likely be missing a few limbs as penance, but those would come back in time. Of course, as with all things, nothing ever did go according to plan. I wasn’t even surprised at this point, only unamused that I had yet another obstacle to circumvent.

        Before I could give Loki further instructions, an orange ring of fire sparked to life beside us, my father in the puppet hissing like a cat at the display. My legs tensed, ready to intercept any blow he sent towards Jane.

        “Looks like I’m late to the party.” A dry, disapproving voice - somehow still polite - arrived with an odd looking man. Was he… wearing an actual cape? Who did that? Other than Thor, that was. But he was a ‘god’; he had an excuse. Oh. Wait. The others had told me of him.  Neatly shaven goatee, well kept hair and attire, a hollow amulet around his neck that I innately recognized. He had never visited, keeping to himself and his mystical texts. 

        “Doctor Strange, I presume?” I inquired returning my gaze to the wheezing Mirage before us. Was my father  _ breathing _ through the puppet’s body? How? They didn’t have lungs. There was no point in mimicking the motion. It was a waste of energy and would only serve to deform her shell further.

        “Thief.” He acknowledged. I ignored his uncaring display of disdain for me.

        “Can you get the others away?” I knew little about the mystical arts unfortunately. The Sorcerer havens were heavily guarded against the Void, albeit by chance rather than intent. But if he teleported here, he could just as easily do it back.

        “Ah, yes. That would be ideal, wouldn’t it?” 

        “Wait no - not m-” But it was too late. Loki’s words were cut short as a ring of fire appeared at his feet and plummeted him to safety before the hole in reality snapped shut, Jane disappearing shortly after.

        “Thank you. You should go too. It’s not safe.” I informed him, stepping between him and my father when the puppet’s head turned to focus on the him. 

        It opened its new jaw, lower extremities unhinging to reveal new jointed additions, rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth plunged into serrated bone veiled in a thin layer of sinew, just as much a weapon as the jagged canines that adorned them. In the back of the throat, gazed a lone, glazed eye. He could not see the world through the dim light of data like I once did, so he made his own way of gaining vision it appeared.

        “That’s enough.” I barked, jabbing a finger towards the unblinking eye. I was no longer holed into the confining walls of a pod, striped of all ego and power. I had my own two feet to stand with, not the borrowed ones that he so easily stole time and time again before. My will was my my own. Mostly my own, anyways.

        The puppet gurgled, jaws receding sullenly like a wounded puppy as my father’s gaze once more drew across my trembling body. I had not think to face him so soon. That he would come  _ here _ of all places. But I had made a mistake, hadn’t I? I was not apathetic, as I should have been. I got lost among all the new faces, until at last I found a few I was foolish enough to call home. I was naive to think they would not find a way to bring a frame out of the sheltering confines of the Valley, where his will was weak and stretched thin. I should not have kept so silent, for my refusal to answer only drove them further towards their death. I saw that now.

_         Come _ . He beckoned, extending an arm and curling a disjointed finger.  _ Come. _

        Behind me, the Doctor tsked - my father’s voice invading his mind as well. I was unsure why he stayed, but there was no longer time to question. If I did not give my father my full attention, he would lash out. Even if I did, I wasn’t sure he would withhold his temper.

        “Why are you here? Why did you kill that man? He had done nothing wrong.” He reared back, spreading his jaws wide as he roared, sputtering flakes of coagulating blood and voided things over my gown. Wonderful. I only had one.

_          Nothing wrong? I heard the way he talked about you, how they all talked about you. Do you know what he would have done, given the chance? I could feel his heart race, the blood rushing to his loins with each new depraved thought of you. _

         “Words are meaningless without action. He would have never been allowed. The only indecency that has been done today was by you.”

_         Never been allowed?  _ He screeched again, lowering his torso to gaze up at my down shot eyes through his gyrating jaws.  _ Look at me when I speak, child. I am still your father. _

         “Father?” I spat at him, sweeping a low arm wide that would have snapped the fragile tendons he shoddily put together that held his jaws in place if he had not dodged. At least I had given myself room. “There is no love in your heart. You are no  _ father _ despite presenting a child.” He shuddered, clicking his jaws together as he corrected his posture. “You kill, you consume, without rhyme or reason, thought or control.”

_          They will hurt you _ . He warned, pointing to where Jane had been.  _ She talked about  _ **_experiments_ ** _ and  _ **_tests_ ** _. She will degrade you into nothing once more. _ Once I might have been swayed by his cautionary words, but I knew there was no love or good will in them. Only a need to claim what he thought was rightfully his.

         “And I would let her, if that be her choice.” I admitted somberly. At least I had that choice now. He had never given me one. “Jane is kind and innocent, intending no harm. But you cannot see that. You will never see that. Never understand that.”

_          Why? _ He croaked.  _ I breath now, I see now, I eat now. There is blood coursing through my veins. Am I not the same? _ For a moment I felt pity for him. All his cruelty was not intended, just a means to an end that he would never achieve. All he wanted, all he had ever strived for, was to understand the workings of a mortal’s metaphysical heart. But he had none of his own. How could one understand imagery, sight, without eyes?

        “You have no heart.” I repeated quietly, swallowing hard. It was difficult, even now, to remind myself that I  _ needed _ to hate him with every fiber of my being. To do anything but that would allow the slow leak of his poison into my mind. “No matter how many limbs you rip apart, hearts you consume - bodies you take for your own - none of it will matter. You will  _ never _ understand.”

_         But I  _ **_love_ ** _ you.  _

        “No.” I wept silently before him, unable to find a suitable out. At least, not one bathed in crimson and accompanied by the wailing of mortals. He was not supposed to be here. Not now. The line I had so carefully constructed to bring me true freedom had been erased by his inability to see past his own desires. He had ruined more than just Mirage’s form. “You do not love me. You  _ want _ to love me.” 

_         How can you say that, after all I have given you? _ He raged, lashing out with a wave of pure energy. I barely had time to absorb the blow, my right arm now charred and throbbing with each arduous beat of my heart. It was good the Doctor had moved to my side. For if he had been behind me he would have been ash, like the far wall at the end of the hall.

        “How can you say you love me, after all you have taken from me?” I countered, raising my crumbling arm for him to see. “You gave me life, but took everything from it that would have given me joy. You gave me the safety of a cage, but not the means to lock it. You gave me power and control, but no one to protect. My life is meaningless and empty, thanks to you. As far as I’m concerned, the only one who has truly done me harm... is you.” I grit my teeth, pushing the cracking arm, now hued the color of mountain stone, towards him. Whatever air was in his false lungs was blown out as I carved a whole through Mirage’s chest cavity in an instant, using the weakness I knew existed within.

        A hush came over the three of us, broken only by my father’s ragged, rasping wheeze as he gulped in air to supply nonexistent lungs. His limbs quivered, a sign he was losing concentration. It was clear he had not expected me to attack him. Despite the heated arguments, my livid, unadulterated rage and hatred I had expressed towards him over the millennia in the brief fatherly inspections he had so graciously used his time upon, the act of me physical striking against him seemed to set him off balance.

        Two symmetric cracks formed along the sides of his remaining abdomen, then another, and another. That was not good. I held my ground, the Doctor gasping and retching beside me, as four more additional arms burst free, each lined with innumerable blinking eyes and teething maws. My father never understood the value of the aerodynamic forms of the frames. If bodies were mutated to endure, why not add more? If he continued, Mirage’s body would crumple under its own weight. At least now he was beginning to give me a chance of winning, should a brawl break out.

         Father looked down at them all, flexed them all, then began to shudder all the more as I remained firm, ready to counterattack with as much of the Void that I could siphon from him. It was good to be able to weaken him and empower myself at the same time. He would not stop me now that I was out of the cocoon he thought protected me. I would not let him.

_          I am a… a monster. _ He breathed in horror, and for once I was the one who was shocked. I froze, head tilted, perplexed by the sudden change in his demeanor. Perhaps at long last he had dared to dip further into my mind that just the shallows, glancing at the misery and suffering he had caused and found it... undesirable. Perhaps this was merely a trick, a play to lower my guard into thinking him soft. Or perhaps… perhaps he knew the truth. Perhaps this was his form of apology, accepting the role given to him so that balance could be restored to the multiverse. It didn’t matter what it was. For once he was showing true weakness. There was a crack, a chance for to turn this around for good. I had to take it, now, before he looked further and saw my intentions.

        “You don’t have to be.” I murmured, outstretching my lone good arm towards him.

_         How? _ Desperation and elation surged through me like a wave. Karma always came around. Did he honestly think his actions were somehow worthy of atonement? That  _ I _ would forgive him, despite my empathetic heart that still ached for him? No. I was no fool. I would not let him linger in any world, in any realm, in any time. His collateral cruelty would end here, even if it meant I took up his mantle despite my urge not to.

         I never wanted his throne, I never wanted his power. I never wanted him as a father. But if I acted now, continued the gamble I began just minutes ago with Loki, there still was a chance for something I never dared to dream of within the pod: freedom. True freedom. Not the kind I endured now where I could not find solace even within my own mind, where I bent my will and tamed my passions so that they would not suspect the terror within.

         It would complicate matters in the future, and it was everything I had strove against. I would not deny that. But I was cunning and resourceful, traits I picked up from my brother long ago. I did not wish to become like my father, apathetic and alone. But there was a slight chance of surviving, if I ascended before he deemed me ready.

        “Go home.” The words hung in the air like a blade as he flinched. “Go to the eternal sleep, where all things remain equal, and dream only pleasant dreams.”

_          And leave you alone? _ He lamented, uncaring for the power as much as I was.

        “I have been alone since the day you created me.” I conceded, but I did not let that weight crush my heart. I had others now. Jane. Loki. Steve. Stark. They would undoubtedly die or leave me in time, but, for now, I was not alone. That was enough to endure the present.

_         You face eternity. There will be no rest, no death. _

        “It is my choice.” I reminded him when he reached out with all his longing arms as if to cradle me in a fashion he had never gotten the opportunity to.

        I would rather experience the joys and sufferings of living, alone though it may be, until the end of time when all things came tumbling down and were returned to nothing, than to exist never knowing who I was, or what beauty there was to be seen. I had tried living vicariously, and I found I much preferred the terror of reality opposed to the monochromatic dream that he offered.

_         I will dream of you. _ He decided with a hesitant nod. I withheld a cringe. I would rather he not, but if that is what got him finally lay in the bed he had spent all of time making, where he belonged, then so be it.  _ One day, perhaps I shall grow this heart you speak of. _ One day, I agreed silently. But that day was not today, nor in any day in all of time. Today was the day he vanished from existence, where he died the deathless death, and I became all he ever wanted and more. Today the tyranny of the Void ended, reborn anew with in the guise of a Lamb.

        I remained stoic, afraid of watching my chance slip from my grasp if he noticed my ruse, watching Mirage’s body crumple to the ground with my own eyes, scrutinizing her form as it lost its rigidity, lost its contours as if it were made of sand that was just now remembering gravity. Then she was gone, as she had should been since the night I snuffed her out. A pile of ash amidst the drying smudges of blood. He had consumed her. His final act of repentance: an attempt at washing away some of the horrors he had sown.

        “Is he… gone?” Strange remained hesitant to approach me. I nodded soundlessly, mourning for the briefest moments for what never was. I was merely a means to an end. Many ends, in fact. One of those ends was now complete with his departure. At least now that I had taken the mantle prematurely I had a chance to retain myself. I turned, preparing to face the hell that would no doubt await me above. “Was that all it took then? A conversation with his daughter?” He scoffed, dusting off his unmarred cloak. He was right of course. This felt too easy. Father agreed without a customary second thought. But it mattered little now that the deed was done. I sent Strange a withering glare. “I thought you hated him.”

        “I do. I… did.” Even after his death it was difficult to bring that sentiment into reality.

        “So… ?” He continued to fish for more as I ascended the empty staircase. “Not very talkative, are you?” In truth I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure what to feel. All I wanted now was to curl up in a corner while Jane told me of gentler things, kinder things. To forget what this meant, what I had done. She had a way of lessening the deep ache of my heart. Perhaps, that was friends were for. But I couldn’t, could I? She would be traumatized, no doubt, by the terror that was my father in Mirage. Who then could I turn to now? 

        Even now, I felt the Void swirling anxiously between all things. It was growing, tethering itself to me. My chest felt unnaturally cold, the air in my lungs no longer enough to fulfill the needs of my extremities. I was changing, now, even as we walked. An Unseen mutation, but one that would echo ever outwards to the stars beyond. Gone was the malevolence that poisoned reality. In its place would be ash, and in time that ash would give way to fertile ground. The thought was of little comfort, however. In this moment, I felt vulnerable and exposed, uncertain of the what was to come in a way I had not anticipated.

        Fury awaited us as we exited the stairwell, hands clasped behind his back as rows of men in front of him steadied themselves with drawn breaths as they sighted down their scopes.

        “Doctor?”

        “It’s all right.” Strange confirmed, releasing a collective sigh of relief. 

        “Stand down.” Fury ordered when a few of the men remained attentive. A few more clicks, and all the safeties were back on. It seemed that I would not be made into Swiss cheese today. Part of me welcomed the notion of them firing upon us. The pain would have been a welcome distraction. “Come.” Fury directed me to follow, the soldiers parting like water as the Doctor and I passed.

        “Where is Jane? And Loki? Are they all right?” I gathered the nerve to voice what made my throat constrict, nigh to where breathing felt akin to raking needles down my trachea. Fury motioned down the hall to where Loki was striding toward us in glorious anger.

        “You’re okay.” I breathed, rushing to meet him, uncaring of his simmering temper below the surface. There was my chance, stalking towards me, residing in the sundered mind of the unsuspecting Asgardian. A broken path towards true freedom. I would need to be careful in masking it, and what followed would be no easy task for my subconscious to complete. But what was one more delusion to add the many? By this time tomorrow my mind would take it as fact, no trace of coercion or deception left in its wake.

        “Of course I’m okay.” He bit, bringing me back to reality. “You look hideous.” He added with a scowl. I had forgotten that I was doused in blood. “Jane is still in the medical lab.” He placed a hand atop my open mouth to stop me. “She’s fine. They just wanted to make sure.” I nodded, licking my lips as he pulled his hand away. They tasted like salt. Was he worried?

        “I want to know what happened down there.” Fury chimed in, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me away. He barely got two feet before Loki was upon us both, wrenching me from Fury’s grasp to leave us both stumbling in shock.

        “She goes willingly, or she doesn’t go.”

        “Loki it’s fine.” I assured him, knowing that his bargained freedom was tenuous at best. He needed privacy for his notorious musings if this was to work.

        “Lamb -”

        “This is  _ my choice _ .” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to fool. I was certainly not fooling myself. There were no choices, only ultimatums in the end. But bargained freedom was better than eternity in a cell, was it not?

        “Something happened down there, didn’t it?” Loki encroached on the Doctor who was following not too far behind. “Didn’t it?” Loki spun on his heel, fear and accusation now laced with malice.

         I couldn’t bare to answer him, marching stiffly forward as Fury led the way back to his office.

        “Lamb.” Carnal, biting, begging, praying. But it was not something I could tell him outright. I never would be able to. But he… I had seen it during the meld, his ability to unravel my intentions if he stumbled across it. Such was the leap of faith I had to take.

        “You shouldn’t call me that anymore.” I warned as we filed into the familiar four walls and I took the seat I had before.

        “Perhaps the two of you should -”

        “Loki stays.” I whispered hoarsely when Fury made to shoo Loki and Strange out of the room. “I will tell you so that you may understand, so that you will never do something so foolish again - a gift so that perhaps Loki will remain in your good graces.”

        “Then why must Loki stay?” Fury inquired as he waved Strange out of the room for the time being.

        “Because he deserves to know the truth.” I couldn’t look up to meet Loki’s eyes, though his black leather boots and the pressure of his radiating anxiety reinforced his presence all the same. I prayed he wouldn’t take that simply as an act born from friendship. I needed him to know.

        “I heard it was your father. The Void.” Fury remained sarcastically nonchalant. “All mighty and terrible.”

        “You should have seen what he did one of the men down there.” Loki muttered.

        “How did you get him to leave? You and Strange appear unharmed, save perhaps your arm.”

        “Your arm - let me see it.” Loki demanded, but I hid it beneath my gown before he could reach for it. It could feel it ache and decay, wilting away like the pages of a burning book.

        “We had a conversation.” I carefully chose my words. 

        “You bargained with him.” Fury growled. What did he expect?

        “I told him the truth. That he would never attain what he sought.”

        “And what did he seek?”

        “A heart with which to feel.” I murmured. “But it is not in his nature, nor is it Fated. So it cannot be.”

        “And your arm?” I did not think it mattered, but alright.

        “He was not overly pleased when I told him that wanting to love me did not make it so.”

        “But what did he  _ do _ ?” Loki pressed, frustrated for once by my prevaricating answers.

        “It will heal, Wolf.” I vowed softly, sidestepping his question.

        “And then he left, like that?” Fury tried to keep us both on track.

        “No.” I struggled with urge to run and never look back. I could do it now. Leave them, leave this all behind. This jumble of emotions that I found myself constantly tripping and bruising myself over. But there was a  _ chance _ . Loki, Jane, Thor, even Steve and Stark - as irksome as they were at times I found their companionship fruitful. I never really  _ wanted _ to be alone. Not like father. These people made it bearable, even if at times they were there under false pretenses. Even if I was here under false pretenses.

        “Well?”

        “He wanted direction on how to make amends. I told him to return to his realm and never come back.”

        “You’re lying.” Loki hawked. In a blur, clenched fingers were around my chin forcing our eyes to meet. “Tell the truth.” It was a mistake to lie to Fury before the God of Mischief. I had forgotten for a brief moment to twist my words into honesty, and I was unsure what the price would be.

        “I told him to go sleep eternal, where he would be but a memory existing only in dreams.”

        “So he’s… dead?” Fury tried to extrapolate a surrogate meaning in his poorly defined language.

        “Realms die the moment they lose their heart. Odin made sure to teach Thor and I that, should he fade in an untimely fashion. One of us had to always remain in Asgard during times of war to ensure the realm’s safety. If the Void was so intertwined with everything, why aren’t we experiencing the aftershocks?” Of course Odin would teach his sons that. It protected his heir… and it was also partially true.

        “What Loki just said.” Fury asserted.

        “I am the Void Child. I am his heir.” Loki relinquished his iron grip on my chin, shoving away as he dissected me with careful eyes.

        “This was your purpose. This was why he made you.” Loki rasped in revolt. “So that the lone child of the Orokin would become that which sought their downfall.”

        “Initially.” I conceded, reasoning that there was no harm to admit this truth. “He meant to corrupt me, like he had so many before. But that takes time. Not millenia, but tens of thousands of millenia. But I? I grew in the dark that was meant to suffocate me. I clenched the fists of hands to limbs that were meant to chain me. I deceived the one who thought himself a Universal Truth. I was never a Lamb, Loki.” It was as close as I could get without passing the line.

        “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? To exact your revenge, to enact a coup so brilliantly insane that it could be nothing but madness. You chide the humans for reaching for greater things, but what of you?” He lashed out, words cutting deeper than his daggers could ever hope to. Shocked, I shied away from his outburst. I had not expected  _ this _ . He was… mad? Why? “You are right. You are no Lamb.  _ You _ are the Wolf, come to prey upon the rest of us like sheep.”

        “Loki -” Fury tried to interject, but he would have none of it.

        “Did it ever mean  _ anything _ to you? The books, the stories, drawing with Jane? Was it all just a front?” He was almost in tears and I couldn’t understand  _ why _ .

        “It means  _ everything _ to me.” I stood, the drumming in my chest unable to rest. I was going to lose him, the one I needed most for this to work. I wasn’t even sure  _ why _ ,  _ why,  _ **_why_ ** _. _ “Loki -”

        “I  _ trusted _ you.” He chuckled maddeningly and I felt the color drain from my cheeks. I had mistakenly become another Odin. “I thought that you were my redemption, that you could somehow  _ fix _ me. But you’re more of a monster now than I ever could have dreamed of being, now that your heart is the Void itself.”

         At last his knives found my heart and I realized the folly of putting too much faith in a Wolf. So that was it then? I was just another means to an end, even to him. How hypocritical of him to claim that the times we shared meant nothing to me. I knew from the beginning his true intent, why he chose to spend his time with the prisoner rather than his adoring brother. No one was ever truly there just to see me. Each had their own selfish motive. Of course I expected him of all people to use me, but never to do so with a complete lack of empathy. Surely he understood that we both required something from each other. I was foolish to think that. 

        I realized then, as I fled from the Wolf called Loki - past guards and laboratories, to towering crates and welcoming darkness - that he had never known me to begin with. I had underestimated the sharpness of the Wolf’s claws and teeth. I thought him a source of refuge, an escape from reality. He was the path to the dream I dared to have. Now as I bled, clutching my heart of air, I wept once more, the words I had spoken now fulfilling themselves.

        I had always been alone, hadn’t I?


	19. With The Heart of a Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a time when I dared to believe, when I dared to hope. I did not dare to dream, mind you. Dreaming is wasted upon those who never slumber. Dreams are flimsy and frail, and lead to apathy and indolence. To dream is to deny reality. Belief, however, gives strength and a solid foundation upon which to build. Hope is kind and immortal.
> 
> Or so I thought.
> 
> But they betrayed me in my darkest hour, when reality came crashing down. When I needed them most, hope died and belief swept the floor from under my feet.
> 
> So what do I do now, now that reality is crushed and mocks me at every turn with the corpse of hope and the rubble of belief? It is simple: I deny reality. I dream.  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. Not like this. He had wept silently, retaining his breath while his words raged about him when he had confronted Odin. He had whimpered and blubbered to his mother occasionally. He had shed a tear on his brother’s shoulder once. That was it. He had never clawed at his soul, body racked with sobs until he grew too tired for sound to escape him and then, as if in an act of self-torture, a single thought reminded him of what he had done and his howling filled the room again.

        He was grateful Thor had barged in during one of the more peaceful interludes, bearing down on him until Thor realized his room was torn apart. Fury told them, shown them, what she had said, but cut the briefing short, leaving out his hateful remarks for the most part. But Thor knew. They grew up together, of course Thor would be the one to realize the horrible words he spat at her.

        “Of course.” Thor spat as he slammed the door shut behind him. “It’s just like you to go whimpering off to your room, pouting like a little child over some little bit of drama -”

        “It’s not a ‘little bit of drama’!” He spat scathingly back through his clenched jaw. He knew Thor was right: he was being melodramatic, throwing yet another tantrum and lashing out at his surroundings. At her. It was part of his nature. He blamed mother entirely for it. That being said, Thor could not possibly understand the pain she had inflicted. He had dared to trust her. Not much. Just a little. And look where it got him: betrayed again. 

       “You think that her coming into her own makes her like Odin? That -”

       “No.” He interjected lividly. “But her betrayal does. She is selfish and -”

       “Enough!” Thor decreed, throwing a dejected book by his head. “Can you not see you are the only one causing yourself pain?”

       “I caused her pain too.” He quietly admitted. Part of him was proud. She was suffering like he was. Another part, however, was gravely hurt by the wounds he chose to inflict upon her. 

       “Why?” Thor demanded to know. Thor didn’t need to know what he said. It didn’t matter what words he used to carve into her. She was hurt all the same.

       “I can’t trust her.” He sniveled. “I, the God of Mischief, can’t trust her.” Perhaps Odin was right that he was just a petulant child, nothing more. All friendships had their hurdles. He found their first one and instead of attempting to surmount it, threw her aside and walked away. His fists clenched in self-loathing.

       “Why?” Thor demanded to know once again, chest heaving. He knew he had just severed Fury’s hopes of attaining the Stones again in an amicable fashion, or at the very least in a timely manner. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about Fury’s desires. Regardless of what ran through the man's veins, Fury would die long before he ever would. Fury's desires were inconsequential in comparison to his own.

        “She  _ lied _ to me, to my face. I’m supposed to  _ know _ . Do you understand? She -”

        “How did she lie?” Thor remained skeptical as he arduously calmed himself and took a seat upon the disheveled bed. “By omission?” Thor didn’t wait for him to answer.

        “Yes.” He confessed stiffly.

        “What did you expect? Her to trust you completely? To tell you all her secrets?  _ You _ . The God of Mischief, who tried to take over the world a little under half a year ago?” Thor scoffed. He wanted to blindly spit venom once more, but he managed to maintain his self-control for once. His brother was right. He should have never expected her to tell him her secrets when he rarely shared his own. Still, he wanted to know, he _deserved_ to know. Or so he thought. “Loki, I’m not sure what you said or what she really is right now - embodiment of the Void, Void Child, she could be Fenrir for all I care. I mean, we’re not even sure what this  _ Void _ really is! But that doesn’t matter, does it?”

        “And why doesn’t that matter, brother? What if this is all some part of some grander scheme of hers? What if this is just the beginning of her deceit? How can you trust her?” His brother was a fool, a well meaning fool, but a fool. That being said, perhaps it was time he listened for once - no matter how much the lecture demeaned him. Mother always said that Thor understood more than he let on, and Thor seemed to the only one in the family other than mother making reasonable decisions in life.

        “The same way I still trust you. She is who she is. She’s a good person at heart. What she is doesn't change that. Do you think I see you as a frost giant?” Thor gasped, insulted at the glare he had returned.

        “The illusion helps, doesn’t it? It’s the skin color.” He pointed to his clothed body sarcastically.

        “You could return to Asgard with no illusion, just as you were born and I would strike down anyone who dared to speak against you.” He couldn’t even dissuade himself into believing that was a lie. He knew it wasn’t. It made his chest bloom in agony all the more.

        “Why?” He croaked.

        “Because you are my brother. Because  _ you _ are better in heart and mind and soul than those who you reduce you to a child’s nightmare. You are Loki.” As if that somehow made up for his heritage. But… Thor was right, once again. He wasn’t malicious at heart. Not like the others thought he was. He just liked to… tinker with things. People. Emotions. Worlds. He didn’t  _ want _ anyone to get hurt. He just… didn’t usually think of the consequences.  

        “I hate it when you speak words and they make sense.” He groaned, burying his hands into his palms. He also hated the tenderheartedness of his brother. But, just because he hated them didn’t make either of those things wrong. It was best he accepted them without a fight and compile his emotions later.

        “I only get to do it once every few hundreds years to you. Deal with it.” Thor teased lovingly as he rose from the bed. He managed a small smile, but his joy ebbed once more. “Why the sullen look now?” Thor sighed, rolling his eyes as he slowly approached, kicking aside a few shirts and the odd book or two on the way. Without a word Thor sat beside him on the floor.

        “Do you think she’ll hate me?” He could feel Thor’s gaze dissecting him by the second, prying for what he did not know.

        “I don’t think she’s capable of hate. Strange recalled her having sympathy even for her father.”

        “I suppose that’s… good?” Considering she loathed her father, that was excellent. It meant there was a chance this was salvageable. She might forgive him, and perhaps the power he sought was not out of his grasp.

        “But tell me, since when you have ever cared if someone disliked you?” There was a smugness to Thor’s tone that made him turn to face his brother.

        “What?” His face scrunched in confusion.

        “You like her.” 

        “Of course I like her. She’s one of the of the few friends I’ve had.” He didn’t want to openly admit that Thor had been his only source of company throughout his childhood. Friends were few and far between back in Asgard, and those who did stay he realized were only there to get in good graces with the crown. For once he found a companion who only looked at him, and not his heritage or his upbringing. And while his initial plan was to use her, he had to admit he would not mind her continued company after the fact. 

        “Uhuh.” Thor still goaded him despite his honesty. “You’ve spent nearly every waking hour you could with her for the past four months.” As if he’d want to spend time with the others. What was he to do? Battle egos with Stark each and every day? Lecture Banner and Selvig on their misconceptions on quantum physics? Perhaps be shamed by the Doctor for his continued presence on Earth? He honestly found it hard to believe that Thor was surprised by his willingness to spend time with the Lamb.

        “She’s open minded and intellectually stimulating. Plus she isn’t overbearing, doesn't bloviate, and is content to cogitate. If you are offering these things, then by all means I will endeavor to spend more time with you dear brother.”

        “Yeah, I don’t know what half those words mean.” Thor shut his mouth pointedly. “But.” It was his time to roll his eyes as he sent a scowl at Thor. “I still think you like her.” He bit his lip to stop himself from retorting. Thor was always better at him in pointless battles of stupidity. “Regardless, you should go to her.”

        “Are you insane?” He spat in disbelief. He thought he was supposed to be the madman in the family.

        “You need to apologize.”

        “Right now?” He breathed incredulously. She wouldn’t be in her right mind. If her father, in an act of boredom, tore apart an innocent man, what would she do to someone who had hurt her? Why send the man who hurt her to comfort her? He wasn’t suicidal.

        “You’re the only one who can comfort her, Loki.”

        “What about Jane?” She wouldn’t harm that innocent butterfly. “O-or Stark? Or -”

        “She has always requested for you.” Thor reminded him. That was one time! That was hardly worth noting.

        “But  _ I _ was the one that hurt her.”

        “All the more reason to be the one to be there for her.” Once again his brother managed to speak reason, though in this case it did little to ease his mind. “Besides, you can consider it bonding - part of relationship goals or something like that.” Or not. Perhaps Thor was going insane. Why did Thor always have to bring it back down to simple-minded motives? “Loki.” His brother’s voice turned serious. “Don’t let pride… don’t let pride keep you from saying what’s really important.”

        “Thor?” He knew his brother’s relationship with Jane was strained at best. Complicated, as her facebook post reported (he still couldn’t believe Jane’s assistant had made one for each of them). Thor’s absence was not appreciated, nor the fact that his brother would have remained out of touch were it not for his coerced attempts to overtake the Earth.

        “Now go find her. Fury is  _ furious _ ,” Thor chuckled at his own pun. “,that we haven’t found her yet.”

        “It’s been an hour and they still haven’t found her?” That was not a good sign.

        “Actually, Loki, it’s been four.” Thor informed him dryly. Perhaps that was why his throat felt so raw. “Since you know her best, perhaps you should -”

        “Right. O-of course.” He nodded stiffly, making sure his cheeks were dry and his nose clear before heading for his door. “Are you going to… .”

        “I’m just going to … stay. Here. For a little. Clean up.” Thor asserted timidly to himself as he stood, hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. It  _ was _ a mess… but he really didn’t want Thor going through his things.“Jane is… out there. Somewhere.” Thor explained sheepishly, deciding not on taking his own advice for the time being. Then again, perhaps it was for the best Thor remained in the safety of his room for the time being. Their spats put their parents’ to shame. And Frigga was not afraid to use her sword if Odin pushed all her buttons.

“Ah. Do you… do you want to come with me?” It was awkward to even ask. They hadn’t spent quality time together in years, and their last outing back on Asgard had soured their bond greatly.

        “No.” Thor immediately dragged out. “No, I just… need to collect my thoughts is all. I’ll be fine, brother.”

        “Well I’m sure you’ll find me, if you find that you are not.” It was veridically spoken, but meant as an offer rather than a statement.

        “Loki.” Thor called out as he took a step out the door.

        “Yes?”

        “Thank you.”

        “Now you’re just being weird.” He jested, scrunching his face as he did in olden times. Thor laughed, the sound not quite so hollow as it had been moments before. Perhaps things would never be the same as they had been before the wool was pulled from their eyes, but at the very least things could get better.

         He wasn’t sure where to look for her, his… little Lamb. He hesitated to use the term, knowing now what she was, the horror she born from and now could inflict, the twisting knife of her cunning. But then the words of his brother rang between his ears. No, she was still herself; still a naive little Lamb, who would rather be friends with a Wolf than cry for help. But where would a Lamb hide? Where would she feel safe? The young and feeble minded often went to their peers for aid, but she was neither and she had no peers.

_          I am no Lamb. _ Her words echoed hauntingly, nipping at his ears.  _ I grew in the dark. _

        She would go to the darkest recesses she could find. Somewhere where it would swallow her whole, where no light would cast an even greater shadow. She had grown in the dark for longer than he had lived, and he doubted she dwelt elsewhere outside the Void before her awakening here. The dark was a place of comfort. It would not cast her out like the light, like he had done so vehemently. 

        He knew where the light ended back in Asgard, where all the shadows converged and whispered secrets were stored. It was his specialty, after all. There was little that went on within the borders of Asgard that he didn’t know about. There were even a few memorable occasions where he showed up Heimdall, though since then the Bridge’s guardian had upped the ante. Unfortunately, he knew not of any on Earth, let alone aboard this Helicarrier. All he could think to do was go  _ deeper _ . Her mind, though beautiful and ineffable in its complexity, was still new to the whims of emotions and their irrational tug. Depth meant darkness, darkness meant safety. She would go down.

        His steps rang hollow throughout the empty stairwell until at last he reached the loading and storage bay. He slid open the door, expecting inscrutable blackness. Instead, he was greeted with the hum and bustle of lay workers, both Wakandan and S.H.I.E.L.D, and the light of the setting sun blaring in through the door made ramp, Wakanda’s towers glistening overhead. 

        “I-I’m sorry, sir. You’re… Loki right?” One of the loading men came over from his inspection to stop him from surveying the area.

        “Yes.” He affirmed, eyes darting to every possible corner. There was no suitable place for her to hide with this many people around.

        “Are you… are you supposed to be here?” The man timidly inquired. “Fury said -”

        “Fury granted me my freedom earlier this morn.” He informed him coldly. “Have you seen a girl? Would have been in a medical gown covered in blood.”

        “Um… no.”

        “Are you sure?” He snapped.

        “We would have definitely noticed someone  _ covered in blood _ in a medical gown. Sir.”

        “She had long reddish hair, like roses. Stunning eyes.” He continued to pester absentmindedly. Perhaps something would jog the man’s dim memory. Her alluring form would be hard to miss, even if she disguised it.

        “Now to think of it, yeah. I did see someone like that pass through a couple hours ago. Not in a gown, mind you. Nor was she covered in blood. But… she did kind of smell.”

        “Where did she go?” He demanded, clutching the man’s arm as if the action might somehow return her.

        “S-she helped offload a few heavy crates, then grabbed some supplies that T’Challa had requested and headed off.”

        “She  _ left _ ?” If he had been his previous self he might have killed the man for his incompetence then and there. Part of him growled to make an example of the midgardian despite knowing better. Now, however, no matter how  _ stupid _ and  _ inept _ this man before him was, he knew the lay worker didn’t know any better. Most of the ship wasn’t aware of the Lamb’s existence in the first place, only that they were housing and protecting a highly valuable asset. An asset he had just pissed off, risking any further hope of retaining her protection. Frigga give him patience, his lips drew into a tight line. He had been such a querulous child, hadn’t he?

        “Um, sir. Loki. I - where are you going?” The man began to follow him as he hurried towards the ship’s ramp.

        “Please inform Fury that she left the ship and that I’m going to look for her.”

        “I - what?”

        “You have ears, right?” He bit in irritation, stepping into the still incredible warmth of the dying sunlight. Of all the places they could be, they had to pick somewhere  _ warm _ .

        “Y-yes, but -”

        “He needs to know right away.” He assured of the man importance of this task, knowing it would send him on his way.

        “O-of course. Loki. Sir.” He wasn’t sure to be amused of the man’s attempts to acknowledge his power, or disgusted. They were pitiful, tacted on without meaning out of fear. But… the man feared him. 

         Once he would have rejoiced in that respect, the due homage that he was owed - even as pathetic and lackluster as the man’s efforts were. Now? He still felt driven to be admired, honored - anything and everything that he had been withheld from in Asgard. He just wasn’t sure he wanted it borne out of trepidation. He wanted something  _ more _ . What did it matter if he gained esteem through acts of terror? They would still never understand him. Never love him. Not like his mother. Not like his brother.

         The sentimentality struck the breath from him as he glared up through the dusty streets at the towering, glittering skyscrapers that surrounded him. Was that why he found their deference held little value to him? Was that why he was so hellbent on reattaining his brother’s esteem? Why it hurt how to think of the pain he had put mother through, how he had dishonored her? Because he wanted their adoration?

        He scoffed aloud at the foolish thought, several heads turning to stare at him warily as he passed. With a forced smile and stiff wave, he moved along past the crowded marketplace. At least they hadn’t attacked him, a foreigner, on sight. Thankfully, he was well accustomed to looks bordering disbelief and unease. Usually, if he recalled correctly, most of the rabble back in Asgard ended averting their gazes entirely or tried to kill him with loathing. The latter resulted in the most amusing repartees slandering Odin’s good name or local customs. 

        Speaking of local customs, he was rather impressed by how unimpressive Wakandan culture appeared to be, at least from an outsider’s viewpoint. They wore attire that reminded him of aborigines, barbarian people, talked in a clipped, staccatoed tongue, and wore bangles of teeth and claws. Were these really the most civilized and technologically advanced people on the Earth? After thousands of years, midgardians were still primitive at heart it seemed. It was a difficult pill to swallow.

        Still, bits and pieces of their advancements shown through. The Wakandan beaded bracelets, he realized quickly, were in fact a complex modular assistant, akin to a phone in some regards though he assumed it held other uses as well. He had seen T’Challa and his personal, sour-faced bodyguard wearing them. He had thought nothing of them at the time, merely a traditional trinket. Now, as he watched two children pout at the holographic display of what he assumed was their mother, he found himself mildly amazed. There was always more than met the eye with these mortals. Perhaps he needed to consider human achievements more than just the work of droning ants. 

        On Asgard, such things were impossible without the aid of magic. The midgardians had done it with their own two hands, carved and tinkered and sweated until at last they had replicated what the gods had done. It had taken them thousands of years to get here, but their progress was worth noting. Perhaps, he mused, science and technology was humanity’s form of magic, their source of power on which they drew on. And, though briefly lit, their minds shone with far more passion than most Asgardians. The mind was the most dangerous weapon, his mother often told him.

        Father had never seen as such, however, he noted glumly as he stopped to take a gander at the blades at a stall just at the outskirts of the trade yard. They were finely crafted, though he had seen better on a few occasions back in Asgard. He hissed in displeasure, shaking his hand as the dagger he was holding neatly sliced through his glove when he went to inspect its edge. With all the celerity his awkward, apologetic bumbling self could muster, he set it back down and walked away from the glaring lady running the stall.

        He had never been a boy keen on weapons. Not like Thor had been. Books and magic were his two greatest hobbies, not drinking beer and bar fights. That wasn’t to go without saying that he wasn’t a skilled fighter, or didn’t find it thrilling. He did. He was still a man, despite what Odin might think. But his heart lied elsewhere. Odin simply couldn’t see it. Nor, he regretfully admitted, could Odin find value in it.

        Asgard needed a strong ruler. Strong of arm and strong of will. He had a strong will, and his arms held plenty strength. But not like Thor. His brother’s voice was that of a brontide, his bulging muscles begged for you to cross him. But as for him? He was muscular, but lithe. He preferred only using his strength when he needed to, his will expressed with a silvertongue that oft had his enemies dancing to his will. Smoke and conjurer's tricks to Odin, and a great deal of the rest of Asgard. But, smoke and conjurer’s tricks saved lives; more than Thor ever had.

        He let loose a weary suspiration, hands upon his hips as he looked down upon his dust laden attire. The air was cooling at last, the sun set now over the distant mountains and the stars peeking out from the inky blue. He had been walking for nearly two hours without a trace of her to be found. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he stepped foot out of the Helicarrier. Did he honestly think that she would, by some mystical force, be drawn to him? He couldn’t even pick up the faint energy of her illusion, and whatever machinations she had spun in the cell of hers ended as she left it. He had nothing to go on.

        Perhaps he was more foolish than he’d like to let himself think. She had departed hours before him. By now she could be anywhere, be anything. He was sure she had used the cantrip of a spell he had flippantly shown her a few months back that he used to disguise himself back in Asgard. His teeth found the inside of his cheek, tearing it to shreds to distract himself from the crushing, suffocating feeling in his chest. If only he had held his tongue and his temper, if only he had the restraint to not lash out at the ones he needed. Perhaps, then, she would have never broken his trust in her.

        No, he chided himself as he wandered further into the now lamp lit streets. He was the fool in the matter. He knew she was cunning and distrusting of others. She would do everything in her power to keep the situation amicable, even if it meant sealing her lips shut on matters that would leave the rest to misgivings. He thought her naive. And, though she was, she had instincts and an astute aptitude for reading people. Millenia trapped within made her adept at noticing the slightest of tells. They had all disrespected her, expecting the miraculous after the manipulation of her puppets. Instead, they received a tortured soul who knew too little of the world to understand how badly it had been burned.

        He had seen the recordings that they had managed to pull and render despite the heavy corruption and technological differences. Rather, he suffered through about thirty seconds, standing flabbergasted and in horror as her captors opened their bodies, still pubescent children, for live dissection. He was amazed at their healing capabilities, not even he as a Jotun could compare. But his skin turned pale and he rushed out of the room as soon as one of the children, a boy, woke up screaming. As of yet, none of the other members had dared to touch the videos with a six foot pole- which accurately now described the state of his dilapidated chitauri scepter. Or as Stark like to put it, his “glow stick of destiny”. Hardly apt anymore given both Stones had been removed.

        He had meant to ask her in person about what occurred during her slumber. But every time he thought to, his heart broke and he found himself daring to pity her. Which was odd, considering that he was not one for such a silly notion. Perhaps she had him wound tighter under her spell than he originally thought. But despite never gathering the nerve to ask, he could not help but wonder. Did she know what happened to her? Did she remember? Or was it as if it was done to another body in a different time, and she merely woke up out of a horrid nightmare? There were sick, dreadful, borderline sociopathic questions that needed to be asked, but none of them had the nerve to follow through. He wasn’t sure if anyone could bare to listen to her recount her tale if she decided to share it.

        She had a nasty habit of choosing the appropriate words to get under your skin when she wanted to. When it came her passions, she wouldn’t merely  _ tell  _ you of them; she made you experience every moment of them, so in the end, when she was done, whether you agreed or not, you wholly understood the subject from her perspective. It wasn’t so much as her diction as it was the fact her excitement contaminated her surroundings until it invaded your mind and you experienced her emotions with her. It wasn’t something any of them quite knew how to explain.

        “Loki.” He froze at the sound of his name from a feminine tongue. His heart leapt as he turned to a flash of red, only to realize it was auburn and not rosewood. Had he already forgotten the sound of her voice?

        “Romanoff.” He tersely greeted.

        “Come on, we should be heading back.” She beckoned him gently, dewy eyes portraying her concern.

        “Have they found her?”

        “No.” The word sliced through growing humidity with ease.

        “I will keep looking then.”

        “Fury is ordering us all back.” Her voice was thicker than the moisture that was collecting in the sand.

        “Then tell him -”

        “Don’t waste her gift, Loki.” He fell silent at her warning. Should he continue pointlessly to search for her, to say he tried, only to hurt her further by throwing her offering away without thought? Or should he remain selfish, keeping it to himself and neglecting her entirely? Which would hurt her more in the end? “We’ll pick up the search in the morning with T’Challa’s help.”

        “She could be anywhere by then.” He murmured, fingers tugging at the slit he had made in his glove earlier when his fingers could not scratch the surface of his left palm.

        “She could be anywhere now.” Natasha’s arms fell from to her sides. “Look, Loki, she’s a lot stronger than we all realize. She’ll be fine on her own. She’s been alone for most of her life anyways. It will probably help her sort her thoughts out.”

         He let her words sway him, feet trudging behind the Widow in silence. All the while, he dared to hope, to catch a glimpse Rosewood flitting away in the shadows. His heart felt akin to lead, heavy and poisonous, seeking to kill him with each onerous beat. He knew what it was like to be alone amidst the throng of happy passerbys. He knew what it was like to be cast out. And the Widow was right: the little Lamb was used to the gloom of isolation. 

         But he had instigated this with his selfishness, caused another the same pain he had endured. It didn’t sit right with him. She trusted him, just as he dared to trust her. And he had let her down, just as he had his mother and his brother. And though she was not nearly as important to him as either of them, he admitted to needing her still all the same. It was not Thor that kept him safe, but her. If he lost the premier spot as her preferred accompaniment, he wasn’t sure how well he’d fair if he stayed upon the planet. She may have fooled him once, but she was still his sole chance of redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... is there a way I can get notifications for comments? Because I feel like an idiot when I don't check them for a while thinking no one would dare care enough to write something and then find multiple messages sitting there, mocking me. So uh. Yeah. I don't mean to ignore you all. You're lovely, and I don't deserve the lot of you. No seriously, this story started as a result of me being stubborn and wanting to show my husband up and I expected like 20 views at most. So uh... yeah. Need to learn how to get notifications for comments. Any way to get them emailed to me or something through the archive? Or some easy way to check?


	20. The Solace of Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not understand why the mortals fear death. They call it a curse, a doom that has befallen all of creation. They cannot understand the horror of eternity. To fade, to wither away, slowly, painlessly, without any sense of closure - how is that not more terrifying than death? Death is finite and doles its judgement equally. It is life they should abhor.
> 
> Life does not think to curb its growth, giving rise to great suffering which Death is forced to cull. Life does not care for the weak and feeble, granting only the strong and the few born lucky success. It is life that much be endured. One does not have a painful death, for the moment that one dies is instantaneous. It is the drawn out moments prior, where Life so greedily clings to the fracturing soul, that bring the most agony. 
> 
> And yet, for all my distaste of the anguish life brings I find myself no longer longing anxiously for the jaws of death as I once did. I am not afraid to die, but neither am I willing to chase death. I am not strong, in body or in will. Life would break me the moment I dared to live, of that I have no doubt. And yet, I find myself yearning for its bittersweet anguish all the more.
> 
> Why?

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        Wakanda was blindingly vibrant in the day. Flashes of color, deep set and rich enough to come alive, lined every wall, every face, every fabric. The air was laden with the stench of sweat and choking dust that rolled in from the far west, but beneath it all was the sweetness of spices and baked goods. They locals smiled curtly at my false uniform when I stopped to inspect their wares, but at least they dared to smile. I stopped suddenly as my gaze snagged upon something, digging the edge of the crate into my ribs as I pointed at shirt, a color of green so verdant I could smell the grass I had never felt.

        “It’s beautiful.” I spoke in her native tongue, taking her by surprise. Slowly, her lips tugged into a wide grin and she clasped me around the shoulders pulling me in closer.

        “I did not think one of you foreigners would bother learning our tongue.” She clicked the roof of her mouth thoughtfully.

        “Ah.” I ducked my head sheepishly. “I’m a quick study, and when I saw the skyline, well, I knew I’d be asking somebody questions. I didn’t want to be disrespectful.”

        “I am glad the first foreigner I meet is not only knowledgeable and well read, but keen on making good impressions and friends.” She clasped my hand between hers and I hid my grimace with a grin. I hadn’t had time to heal my arm just yet. The illusion would look and feel to them like nothing was amiss, but I still felt every shot of searing agony that ripped up my arm when she brushed it. “Here, set down your supplies for now.”

        “A-are you sure?” It felt odd to be welcomed so readily by this matronly stall keeper. I was, as she stated, a foreigner. She merely didn’t realize just how foreign I was.

        “Don’t make me tell you twice.” She scolded, wagging a finger at my face. “Now look.” She swept her hands across her three tables set up, against the racks that hung on her walls, spinning until she had passed over the trinkets in the back. “Tell me what else catches your eye. I need to know what you foreigners like.”

        “I’m not sure the rest will follow my tastes.” I notified her apologetically, but I didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to fully appreciate her stock.

        “You like green, don’t you?” She noted as I tended towards the soothing color. The color reminded me of the Wolf, as he wore it constantly. It brought out his eyes, Jane explained when I asked. Even though he despised me now, I still cherished the few months I was gifted. My eyes flickered over her strewn attire, catching on a particular simple shirt set off to the side. This one in particular was deeper than the lush grass of the previous weave, a verdurous hue that felt so bottomless and intense as to make me drown amidst the foliage of an unseen jungle.

        “I’ve never seen a color so rich and bold.” I breathed, tempted to risk touching it but thought better of it at the last minute.

        “Well go on. Wakandan fabrics are quiet soft and silken, on a level you foreigners ought to take note of.” She insisted when I timidly folded my hands on my abdomen.

        “I-I shouldn’t. I don’t have any money.” I explained. “And my brother always told me that I should only touch the things I intend to take with me.”

        “Your brother sounds fusty.” I chuckled softly.

        “Yes, yes he was.”

        “Ah, I’m sorry.” She winced when I failed to hide my solemn agreement. “What about your parents?”

        “My brother raised me. I never knew them personally.”

        “Oh my poor dear.” She cooed, suddenly overwhelming me in an embrace that thankfully I half-expected enough to freeze in place, rather than blench. Her hands patted my shoulders, rubbing them in comfort as she parted. “And to think you have come so far! It shows just how strong you are!”

        “I don’t feel strong.” I admitted, turning to the rack to let my gaze drift over the colors numbly.

        “Ah. That is because you haven’t been pushed to your limits. You will, one day. Then you will see the brilliance of your inner strength that everyone else saw so easily in you before.”

        “And what if I break?” I could barely whisper my fear aloud.

        “Hm?”

        “What if I reach my limit and I break instead?” I questioned with more confidence without turning around.

        “My child, I have raised three children of my own - one of whom I am grateful to have kept. I have seen many things, and many types of people. You wouldn’t believe the type of people who come through these markets. _You_ are not the type that breaks. You are not the type that bends.”

        “Then what am I?”

        “You are the spearhead, gracing the shaft of a weapon so fierce that even the honored Okoye would tremble to wield you. _You_ are the blade that breaks _them_.” A moment of relative silence passed over us, though the clamor of the crowd made it hard to contemplate her words. “You find this troubling?”

        “I don’t want to _break_ just anyone.”

        “Then don’t.” As if it was that simple. But, perhaps she was right. A weapon was only feared if it was in the hands of the unskilled or the cruel. I was neither. Could I use myself, the Void, for a greater good now? It was not in my nature to be proactive in such a fashion. But perhaps my newly appointed position called for a different approach. “Pah, but what do I know? I am just an old lady who has lived in this country and ran this stall for as long as I can remember, like my mama and papa did, and theirs before them.”

        “Thank you.” I muttered, offering her a genuine smile - my only available commodity at the moment. “I think I needed that right now.”

        “I know it. You looked like a lost pup walking down the street, searching for its master.” I flustered, not realizing that I was so easy to read when I wasn’t consciously attempting to hide.

        “I wouldn't worry about it.” She assured me. “I have a lot of experience now when it comes to reading the signs of a pained soul. My only wish is that I had learned them sooner. Perhaps I would have three children still, and not the one.”

        “I-I’m sorry.” That was hardly something I wished to hear. How was I to respond to that bittersweet sorrow?

        “Pah. You have nothing to apologize for, child. Now come, I have the perfect necklace that matches your eyes.” She tugged me to the back of the stall, hands flickering over the assorted jewelry along with her gaze until - “Ahah!” She plucked out a golden strand with a teardrop shaped amethyst hung upon it. “No?” Her gaze followed mine to the other side, where the metal was pure and white, silver and platinum, opposed to flavescent gold. “Not a fan of gold?”

        “It’s a bit gaudy for my tastes.” I wasn’t even sure if jewelry in general suited me. I wasn’t like the others, especially Stark and Loki who at times were downright clinquant. I preferred to remain a wallflower, though I supposed Jane was right: that was impossible with my hair color and physical attributes. At least the illusion I had detracted from these, muting the vibrancy of my eyes and hair and toning down my curves until I hoped I was as flat as a board. I wanted no attention if at all possible.

        “Sterling silver then, interlaced with vibranium so that it isn’t so glossy.” She nodded curtly to herself as her eyes continued to saccade over her own wares. “There it is! I knew I hadn’t sold it just yet.” She snatched up a hidden pendant from the far corner, displaying it before me with her two wide hands. “Beautiful _and_ strong.” She asserted, tugging at the chain viciously. I was impressed that it gave no inkling of snapping, but I suppose the vibranium in it helped. “Just like you.”

        “Ah.” I found myself bobbing my head once more, unable to keep my spine under the circumstances. “Thank you.” I muttered timidly, both appalled and reveling in the heat adorning my cheeks. She beamed, pleased when I met her eyes and hustled past to the other corner where she picked at a few more odds and ends. “I really should be going though.” I admitted with regret.

        The others would not be far behind soon, I had no doubt of that. I wished to still the time around this little stall, to talk with this aging woman who knew nothing of me yet seemed to understand me all the same. It was uplifting and endearing. It may not have been Jane’s soothing voice, persuading me to believe the promise of security and control, but it was healing me. Perhaps even more than her words could at the moment. This wasn’t a mere bandage upon the wound like the times before.

        “But before you go!” She hurried, pulling out a small woven bag and folding the shirt of the living forest and dumping in the necklace and some other odd ends I had not seen just yet. “Take this.” She insisted, grabbing my limp arm and wrapping my fingers around the handles when I remained flabbergasted.

        “I-I don’t have any money.” I reiterated.

        “I know, child.”

        “I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back or - or -”

        “It’s a _gift_ , child. I don’t want repayment. Didn’t your brother ever give you gifts?” She scolded me lightly, a stern finger tapping my forehead when I attempted to shove it back in her arms.

        “A-are you sure?” I know I sounded gutless and shy, so unlike the woman she supposedly saw in my place. I bit my lip at her harsh glare, nodding and accepting it with a much poise as I could muster in the moment. “Thank you.”

        “Now go! I’ve kept you dawdling long enough!” She shooed me out of her stall with mirth, and for once the laughter bubbled out of its own accord.

        I grinned, holding the small bag, my new treasured possessions to my chest as I walked down the streets burnt gold by the setting sun. These were _mine_! The thought made me ecstatic. I had never owned something before, other than the gown that had graced my body for the past five months. Even that wasn’t mine. When they were finished with me the would undoubtedly take it back. Loki’s books were merely borrowed. The wicker chair in the corner was there only conditionally, as was the pillow that my head laid upon and the blanket under which I slept. But this?

        I wasn’t even sure what to do with it honestly. Wear it, would be the practical answer of course. The humans didn’t like the sight of blood, let alone a woman clothed in a medical gown covered in the substance. That was subject of many a horror story. But it would get dirty. It would rip. Fade away. I wanted this object to last forever, or at least longer than it would if I wore it. The moment they saw it, something not of their own, they would tear it from my body. Better to be bare than armed or armored.

        And so it remained hidden in the bag, clutched at my side as I received far too many questioning stares when I gleefully crushed it to my chest. I was already a foreigner in a xenophobic land, no need to be a crazy foreigner. I cringed when I realized it was too late: there was a pair of Wakandan guards trailing me. They were paced about a hundred meters back, clad in tribal tattoos and armor that made no sense to me, for I saw it not with my own eyes but through the Void.

        We traveled for several more blocks, looping odd restaurants and poking our heads in to shops no Western civilization would have. One was based purely on the wool sheared from sheep that day. It smelled of what I could only assume was a farm, but whatever it was - it was awful. I did not stay long there, despite enjoying the fluff that reminded me of clouds that lined the walls (I highly doubted clouds smelled bad though). There was another on small practical curios made from vibranium. Pocket knives, tools, even their Kimoyo beads were displayed (although those they were not allowed to sell to foreigners).

        I feigned indifference to the technological marvels, rolling my eyes as I passed the two guards on the way out. They would follow me until I returned to the Helicarrier most likely. Unfortunately, I had no plans on returning to that behemoth of a vessel tonight, nor did I have a reservation in a Wakandan prison cell. My heart urged me to bolt, to rush from their view and leave them breathless and confused. But I knew better now than to listen to my heart on such matters. Listening to the demanding beat was what landed me here in the first place. Calm, collected trickery was what was needed.

        Instead, I continued at a lackadaisical pace through the cooling streets that began to quiet in the spreading moonlight. They trailed behind me once enough distance was obtained, feet scurrying when I turned into an alleyway and then they gasped as they rounded the corner. I had vanished, tugging on the Void to take me elsewhere - somewhere I could walk in between two worlds. I grinned, standing before their astonished forms now morphing in concern as they began cursing to one another. Begrudgingly they informed the other guards in the city that someone had lost their ‘escort’, via a small glass nub behind their earlobes.

        Tentatively, I strode through them towards the way I had meant to go - towards the royal palace, though my destination lay just beyond it. I was taken aback by the absence of all tactile senses here. The sensation of passing through passerbys wasn’t odd. It was nonexistent. I phased through the people like a ghost, watching them live out their lives before me while they were none the wiser. I had no influence upon the waking world, just as they had none upon the dream. It was an efficient and safe mode of transportation, and had I remained in isolation those five months I might have enjoyed it.

        Instead, I found my feet hurdling my body towards my destination - desperate to end the waking nightmare. My feet told me that they were digging into the ground, but my mind told me that could not possibly be. It was eerily similar in some sense to the desensitization of transference, an action I was just beginning to understand the true horror of. Somewhere along the way I returned to the main thoroughfare, the majority of the stalls now packed for the day and their owners enjoying a well deserved respite from the heat. In the midst of it all, out of place and slovenly horrendous for once, stood the Wolf.

        My heart leapt in my chest at the sight of him, the deed only giving it further to plummet when I passed through him like those before. His eyes were bloodshot, lips raw from gnawing, as he scanned those that filtered out of the marketplace. He was an endearing mess, my dear Wolf, even if it was his fault. No. It was my fault too. I couldn’t bring myself to trust him. Or perhaps I trusted him too much. It was hard to tell. Emotions were finicky and fickle.

        I wanted to hold him, like Jane had held me so many times before. There was comfort to be found in her arms, perhaps mine would offer him the same. More likely not, however. My touch could only bring shuddering trepidation and disaster, my mouth could only spew falsities, my eyes could only watch them dance along to the horrid tune. Not that it mattered in the slightest.

        I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t speak to him. Here, together, we stood alone.

        I wondered how long he had been searching, how long he had roamed the Helicarrier only to understand the gears in my mind and take to the Wakandan streets instead. Had he told anyone? Was there a manhunt for me? I shook my head free of the worthless thoughts. They mattered little now, given I could enter such a state. What did matter was the dust that was ingrained into his good cloak, the packed silt on the bottom of his boots, the tear in his glove.

       Those were the little things that mattered to him, the things he sacrificed without a second thought on the frailest of hopes that he might find me. I could taste the apology upon his lips, like saltwater, though my mind reminded me that it was not his dried tears I was perceiving. We had each shed our own tears, mourned and pieced ourselves back together. There was still a line to be followed to victory in this misguided prince. It was merely stretched a little thinner.

        “I’m sorry.” I whispered, managing a bitter smile, hoping that one day he would return it without it souring at the edges; that perhaps I would not be a means to an end. At the very least he was adept at his duplicity. Being the God of Mischief I expected no less.

         I would make this right one day, I vowed. I would wipe the sand from his lashes, clear the brine from his pores, and read to him the tales of a forgotten empire, from books that no longer existed. He would enjoy that, I think. His mind was just as greedy as mine for knowledge.

        One day, that might be. But not today. Today I traversed the dream alone, through guards and warrior women, through glass that shown only the night sky, until at last I stood upon the steps of the Tranquility Temple - aptly named for it seems it would fit both the contemplative needs of the king and I tonight. Come the midnight moon, I would beseech the only king of worth I knew, who once came to me under the pretense of seeking aid not so long ago, and together we would dole judgement on my conduct.

        Would I be found just and fit to rule in my father’s stead? A good king - a good _queen_. That was all I wished to be. That was all I could be. Nothing was ever as easy as wishes. My father’s cruelty stained my crown of thorns, befitting of the rose they saw but nonetheless left me questioning my right to the throne. I was his illegitimate daughter, the taunting words still haunted me thousands of years later. No blood of his actually ran through my veins. Just his power, his soul - though the former had now faded from existence entirely.

        I entered the temple, daring to tread upon the sacred ground in my bare feet despite the chill of the stone that was sure to accompany it in reality. There would be no illusion tonight between the king and I, only truths - no matter how painful or irrational they might seem. I descended into the darkness of the chambers below, returning to the waking world with each tentative step. Sand ground into the soft, tender soles of my feet, scratching harshly upon the cobblestone until at last I faded into the shadows to wait for the king’s arrival.

       One day, I vowed, I would see them all again. Whether it was in the waking world or the lifeless dreams of eternal sleep was yet to be determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. Sorry about not updating this for a bit. Shit went down in life, and everything kinda went to the back of my mind as I got things sorted out. Should be back updating this regularly-ish now that things are returning to normal!


	21. Hope Within the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you close your eyes, what do they see? I have often wondered what it would be like to shut out the light. Would it seep through the crack of my lid? 
> 
> Or would there be darkness underneath? I know nothing of their world. It is too estranged from my own, despite walking it alongside them without their knowing. I have watched them struggle for survival. Weak hands only mending so much, weaker wills giving into the sweet embrace of death. It makes me wonder all the more if I have a right to judge them within the confines these shells.
> 
> My hands can heal, just as they can kill. My shoulders can bear the weight of mountains, my feet kick them crashing down. And yet, I do neither of these. I stand and watch. Not apathetically, for I admit that their plight moves me. But I remain passive on the grounds of fear. I do not know what their eyes would see in my metal visages, how they would scorn or applaud my arrival. I want to know, about all else, what they would see in my hardened forms: a long lost soul or a monster.  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        He came, troubled and weary, around midnight. Soft padding feet, like the beast that dwelt in his heart, prowling the edges of where sand and stone met. This was where he had been ritually initiated into his rule. Now it lay barren, the sand unmoved and his precious herbs burnt and withered. No longer would Wakandan kings stride beside their forefathers, learning from both their successes and their mistakes.

        His pacing slowed until with one last grating step he stopped.

        “You there, in the shadows. Come out.” I did as he ordered, standing now on the fringes of the flickering torchlight. His form shied back, and I felt his throat constrict to yell for his guard.

        “Please don’t.” I whispered hurriedly. “I don’t mean you harm, if that is what you think. I understand my appearance is... unsettling.” I grimaced downwards at the crimson streaks and blots upon my loose gown.

        “And why should I trust you, Child of the Void?” He questioned tersely, but his shoulders relaxed and he began pacing the room once more.

        “I… don’t know.” I softly admitted. It was difficult to refrain from conjuring an answer from thin air. I excelled at that.

        “I do.” I looked up from my feet to find him smiling before me.

        “W-Why?” I asked, feet tapping anxiously to his side as he continued his stride once more.

        “You have helped guide Wakanda this far. I doubt you would jeopardize its integrity at such a crucial time by assassinating the new king.”

        “Oh.” I was hoping for a more philosophical answer, but his words were true nonetheless.

        “Are you here to comment on my new take on Wakandan foreign policy?” He smirked teasingly, but his tone was clipped.

        “I haven’t been able to…  _ interact _ much with the outside world as of late, so I do not know the whole of it.” I explained thoughtfully. “I caught a few snippets the past few weeks Jane when was here, though more from Stark a few days ago.”

        “Still the curious cat, are we?” The mirth dried in his voice, but he remained pleasant.

        “I can’t help it. As soon as I touch, well, most things, I catch small glimpses. The light shines in before I can block it out. My mind latches onto that which I find concerning first.” I hastily clarified. I didn’t mean to spy on them. Not like that. I wasn’t interested in their plans for me. They could use me as they willed so long as I obtained my goal.

        “I… see. And?” I hesitated in my step, forced to quickly take a few more to catch up. I hadn’t expected him to understand my point of view so easily.

        “I think what you are trying to accomplish is both groundbreaking and world-altering in a sense that goes beyond the scope of your lifetime. It is as courageous and daring as it is terrifying. Wakanda will look to you for strength for the remainder of your reign. Are you willing to shoulder that burden, to console their fears and lead them without hesitation into a better future?” I tried to call upon what I descried from what little I saw in the Void during my slumbering millenia. If I was to be a queen, a true queen, in any possible future, one day I had to understand the whims of ruling.

        “I believe I must try.”

        “Why?” 

        “Because it is the right thing to do.” But how was that even defined?

        “For Wakanda?”

        “For the world as a whole.” He paused, catching back up to me after a brief moment lost in thought. “And for Wakanda as well.”

        “You are a good king.” I murmured, pleased that his spine remained unbent. He understood what I could not, and carried a load heavier than what he ought. A part of me was jealous of his inner fortitude. I crumbled so easily, like the sand we ground into the stone as we walked.

        “It is all that I aim to be. I will not let the kings of the past decide Wakanda’s future. Too much has changed in the world, and it is time now for Wakanda to change as well.” I heard the rustle of his clothing, but I did not turn to meet his gaze until the weight of additional layers bore down upon my shoulders. “You will get chilled, in such a thin sheet.”

        “Thank you.” I returned with a small smile, knowing better than to protest. He was stubborn, and my back was rigid from the cold air.

        “So why did you come? While I would love to think myself worthy of your escape, I know better than to hold on to foolish thoughts.” I remained silent, heels now digging into the stone painfully until I thought better of it and stopped all together. “Fury informed me upon my return that something unfortunate happened aboard the Helicarrier.”

        “Mirage’s form survived.”

        “Mirage? Ah, the bioframe we managed to recover.”

        “They’re supposed to remain dormant until the Void consumes them or an operator such as myself wields them. It is the reason why the Valley is the way it is.” I informed him. “When I was removed from my stasis, you merely pulled the ghost from a living shell, allowing for crueler denizens to take up residence. My father decided to pay me a little visit.” I tried to gloss over the narrative as quickly as possible. “All things considered, it went rather well. He killed a man, but one is better than a thousand.”

        “And your… father?”

        “Dead. Or, well, akin to dead. Nonexistence is a tad… worse.” After death came life, an endless cycle that rebirthed the multiverse, beautiful in its complexity. After nonexistence came nothing. It was utterly terrifying.

        “The Void is  _ dead _ .” He repeated dubiously.

        “No, I’m quite alive.” I assured him, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “That’s… why I’m here.” I admitted with no amount of tact.

        “What?” He snapped incredulously.

        “Didn’t Fury tell you?” I scoffed lightly. “Of course not.” That man only saw value in that which could offer him more power and more control. T’Challa would surrender neither of those without a fight and so he was not upon Fury’s need-to-know list.

        “Tell me what?”

        “I am the ‘Child of the Void’, T’Challa, as you so eloquently put it. The king has died. Who sits upon the throne then?”

        “You’re the -”

        “Queen. Yep. Got a crown of tears and robe doused in blood for my coronation, but hey - it could have gone worse.” I bit out, choking past the lump in my throat as I crouched down to dip my fingers in the sand. For once I was free to display my true emotions, no longer hawked over by judging eyes behind panes of mirrored glass. I was breaking under the weight of  _ everything _ but I didn’t care. I needed to buckle in this moment, to catch my breath.

        “So why are you  _ here _ ?” He rephrased the question.

        “Aren’t you scared?” I mocked in disbelief but he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

        “Why would I be?”

        “I am the terror that dwells in the Nothing now. The Orokin called the Void the Wolf with Many Wings and Eyes. Flows much better in their tongue, mind you. I have consumed worlds and crushed entire dimensions. I have -”

        “No, you haven’t.” He calmly interjected, warm palms pulling at my shaking fingers. “Your father did. You are not your father.” I couldn’t contain the terror within at what I had become. The power that was now leashed to  _ him _ . I had done something so incredibly  _ stupid _ . But… I found I didn’t regret it, saving them that was. I feared the consequences, yes, but did not rue the choice.

        “But I have his memories now. They seep in from the blank spaces where they remained unnoticed, until I turn and I remember something not my own. What if I become him? What if his malice trickles through and twists me into his visage?” It was a delusional fear, I knew that the moment it left my lips but I dreaded it nonetheless, spurred on the need to survive and the wild ambition I knew could only lead to ruin.

        “It will only do so if you let it. And even then, you won’t become your father but something else entirely. Your father is dead.” He stated it plainly. “The title you wear is only just that - a title. Only his memories remain. Use them as you will.”

        “And the power.” I whispered hoarsely back. “The power remains as well. I don’t know how to use it just yet. There’s so much of it. Too much of it.”

        “You’re scared to use it.”

        “Yes.” I affirmed quietly.

        “Then don’t use it unless you have to. Wakanda could conquer the globe with little hope of resistance if we wished. That power is within our grasp. But it is not our way. Instead, we have always protected our borders and our people’s interests. Now, we intend to do the same for the world as a whole. Not with spears and blasters, but with wisdom and kindness. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t embrace your abilities. Wakanda embraces all of its technology with open arms. Fear will smother you if you let it.”

        “But what if I let it? What if I let it suffocate me and I willingly enter the endless dream? Would that not be better? Perhaps not now, but in the millenia to come.” I breathed insanity aloud, daring to end this charade once and for all. There would be no more pain, no more anxiousness, no more judgmental condemnations. Just… nothing. Would that not be simpler? I shuddered, realizing my mind was taking me down the apathetic path of my father.

        “Easier? Yes. It would undoubtedly be easier. For you, in any case. Would it be better? I cannot say. I am no prophet or farseer. I can tell you, though, that the thought is incredibly selfish.” I hung my head in shame. “Tell me, what is it that you want?”

        “I… don’t know.” I mumbled in confusion. Weren’t we just ridiculing my selfishness?

        “Think about it. Look deep within yourself. What do you want?” I frowned, focusing on the sand below. What did  _ I _ want? I found the answer in a heartbeat, but it could not be uttered aloud. 

       “I want… to be a good Queen.” I shook my head numbly, trying to find a substitute.

       “Further.” I tried again, daring to go to the places where it ached and I felt lost. Where I returned to my first iteration, where I was weak and naive and full of love.

       “I… I… want… to understand.”

       “Understand what?”

       "Why my father did what he did. Why sometimes my mind doesn’t make sense, like the memories are shifted out of place. I want to understand people. Why some of them smile with their eyes and others with their canines.”

        “I thought you had an eidetic memory.” T’Challa dubiously recalled.

        “I do. But the first hundred or so years of my life are… blurred. Maturation in the Void is tricky. Impossible, actually. The others evidently collectively designed a growth hormone so that I would not remain infantile.” It worked to a point, though my growth remained permanently stunted after its effects. One time use, evidently.

        “The others?”

        “The other children who were aboard the ship.”

        “They were smart enough to create such a thing?”

        “Well, I call them children. But they were well over three hundred years old at that point in time. The mind progresses and learns while the body remains eternal in the Void.” Many would find that fact desirable until they came to terms with the fact that immortality was not a blessing but a curse. 

        “I see.” He shifted next to me, fingers now drawing patterns in the sand next to mine. “What else?”

        “Do I want?” He grunted an affirmative. “I… I.” I swallowed hard, lacing my fingers together as if I was holding the Jane’s hand once more. It was a pleasant feeling, to know that you were close to someone. I had done it with Loki before too, but never intentionally. Only twice. Once when he had pushed me gleefully around the room on the stool, to catch my hand before I went careening into the wall. The other when I fell asleep in the wicker chair next to him. I wasn’t sure how my hand ended up in his in the former, but most likely it was to offer my arm for more blood tests. “I want to know Jane is all right. And I want Loki not to hate me.” I whispered, slipping the fingers loose. I knew better than to hope for the former.

        “You see, how can you think yourself akin to your father when your heart is full of love?”

        “But it is a selfish love. If I truly loved them, would I not tell them everything? Would I not spare them my presence?” Did I even love them? Was I not just using Loki as a means to an ends as he was me? Was I not keeping Jane at my side so as to learn of the world more? Or what of Stark, or Steve? Whether they were a balm to my bruises or a pawn in the greater scheme of things, did I honestly love them? Perhaps… perhaps I did, or I was beginning to care. I had saved them, had I not? Despite the warning in my heart not to.

        “All love is selfish after some fashion. I think you are trying to keep them from a form of harm that they will encounter regardless.”

        “But what if they despise me?”

        “I think, my dear, we have come now to the true core of your desire. You want, more than anything, to be loved in return.”

        “That’s absurd.” I chortled dryly, unable to meet his gaze. “I  _ know _ better than to hope for something with such an abstract value.” 

        “Just because you know something, doesn’t change how you feel about it. Nor does it help in understanding it.” I breathed in sharply, the notion behind his words fresher than what he could have ever imagined. I lived with that concept, battled with it, each and everyday since my awakening. There was so much I knew, but so little I understood, so little I had experienced and felt with my own senses.

        “Does this… differentiate me from my father?” I implored.

        “You are like night and day.”

        “I’d much prefer to be the night.” I cut in. “The sun reminds me too much of my father. Burning and scorching everything, spreading its influence regardless of whether or not it healed or harmed.”

        “Perhaps it wasn’t the aptest of descriptions.” He winced acknowledgingly. “But life would not thrive without the sun. Perhaps it is harsh and uncaring, but it is beautiful and awe-inspiring all the same.”

        “You love the sun.”

        “How could we not? Do you hate it?”

        “I… haven’t seen it.” I admitted after a beat. “By the time I exited the Helicarrier, the sun was below the skyline of glass.”

        “You’ve… never seen the sun?” 

        “Nor the stars.” I added. “Or the moon. I entered the temple before they arouse.” And there was no sky in the realm which lay between.

        “Come.” He urgently insisted, knees cracking in his celerity. I hesitantly took the hand offered, pulled hastily to my feet and further towards the stairs.

        “Where are we going?” I inquired, uneasy with his shift in behavior but confident enough in my own burgeoning abilities to protect myself. 

        “You’ll see soon enough.” He smiled like Loki did when his excitement overcame his outer facade, the lips twitching at the corners as he attempted to still them, eyes wrinkling and shining in the corners. Loki oftentimes would avert his eyes all together if he could when he was about to present something to me. Usually a new book, but occasionally he brought sweets he deemed worthy. In his eyes I was above the tasteless or over sugared and salted slop that they deigned to give me. 

        To be honest, I didn’t care what they gave me so long as it didn’t hurt. But he didn’t need to know that. Especially since the food he brought was indeed a cut above the rest. Maybe even two. He spoiled me, though I imagined that was his scheme. It was why he nitpicked at my clothes, forgetting that I had never had any before and the gown was quiet wonderful. Nor was the bed uncomfortable, despite what he told me. Though, the cushion on the wicker chair was softer. 

        I startled at the whisk of a blade, darting back and yanking T’Challa behind me.

        “What is the meaning of this?” A woman, dark skinned and fair, with a shaved head adorned in ritualistic tattoos spat from the far end of her spear that graced my neck. Though it was well into the wee hours of the morning, she had remained alert and was poised to strike should I so much as breathe harshly. 

         “Okoye, it is fine. She is my guest. A friend.” Okoye. So this is what she looked like. Fierce and proud, as if chiseled from vibranium itself and given life.

         “Yet she is covered in blood. I did not see her come in.”

         “I was waiting.” I mumbled as she stiffly pulled the tip away, though her spear remained ready at her side. “I’m… sorry.”

         “Okoye, do you remember the girl I was talking about?” Okoye’s form softened, her spear now in firm hands rather than clenched, as she took her time inspecting my visage.

         “She is no  _ girl _ .” Okoye snorted, slamming the butt end of the spear’s shaft into the ground. It reverberated through the chamber, loosened dust momentarily filling the air. “Why is she covered in blood?”

         “There was an accident on the Helicarrier.” I explained, daring to look her in her eyes. She locked them there, waiting for a hint of trepidation, a faltering that would display my true intentions - whatever she thought they might actually be.

         “Then why are you here?”

         “Okoye.” T’Challa admonished.

         “I do not trust her.” Okoye stated it simply without malice. “She’s even still wearing her medical gown.”

         “I have nothing else to wear, and I did not wish to shame myself further. Loki taught me a few illusions, and I used one to walk through the marketplace. If it would put your mind at ease, I could cover my form further.” 

         “It would not.” She scorned the offer of using deception. “She is friends with the Snake as well.” I bit my tongue. Loki was a Wolf, not a snake.

         “Okoye, please.” T’Challa stepped out from behind me, palms opened upwards in a silent plea.

         “I will follow. Do as you wish.” Okoye relented with a nod and a dismal sigh.

         “Come.” T’Challa smiled to the both of us, and I followed swiftly knowing that any tarrying would earn a sharp rap from Okoye.

         He led us out the back entrance, towards the north side of the building where the smaller of the two royal gardens were. I shivered under the judging gazes of the palace guards, though they remained stoic and silent with our passing. As we entered the garden, I could not help but stop at the folded flowers, biding their time for the dewy dawn. They hung cocooned, suspended in a protective shell, not unlike I had been.

         “What flowers are these?”

         “Veronicas. Clea Diana, I believe” Okoye answered curtly. She tapped the back of my calves with the butt end of her spear, and I regretfully obeyed only to halt a few feet further along.

         “Are those… roses?” I whispered reverently. Jane had promised to buy me some one day, but work had her cooped up in the lab more often than she liked. And when she did get out, it was often times a day of complete and utterly deserved rest.

         “Have you not seen roses before?” Okoye raised a brow when my feet dragged me over to their drowsy, huddled forms.

         “Jane showed me pictures on her phone.” I reached out for one of the buds that had been estranged, no doubt it would be trimmed the next day. “Can I touch it?”

         “O-of course.” Okoye cleared her throat awkwardly. “Have you not seen roses in person before?”

         “No.” I breathed, fingers ghosting over the jagged protective shell until they at last caressed the part that smelled like the afternoon tea that the Wolf sometimes brought, laced with sugar and laughter. “It’s soft. Like the velvet Jane showed me. Only… not as giving. It’s finer. But more fragile.”

         “Would you… like one?”

         “Oh no.” I hastily declined. “It is far too beautiful for me to kill for my own selfish desires.”

         “It will be pruned tomorrow.” Okoye confirmed what concerned me.

         “I know. But at least it will brighten someone else’s day.” I smiled wistfully, patting the rose gently like so many people were drawn to do to me. I would remember it though, in its entirety. An eidetic memory had its downfalls, but some things were worth remembering.

         “Are you two ladies done?” T’Challa teased, eyes sparkling in the dim light.

         “Why are we here? Did you bring me to see the roses?” I questioned when he remained grinning like a fool.

         “Look up.” My lips tugged downwards, then open into an amazed gasp at the world that floated above my head. It was a thousand miles above me, more in actuality, but it felt like I could reach it if I merely stretched out my arm. I felt like I was gazing into the sand that I so carelessly dipped my fingertips into, only this sand glittered against a backdrop of ever fading, ever distant, dancing lights. “Those are stars. It’s a new moon tonight, so he won’t be joining us, but I figured you might enjoy these nonetheless.”

         “There’s so many.” I breathed in wonder. I knew that. I had counted them. I new their names, their radiation types, which ones were there even though my physical eyes couldn't see them. But this… this was overwhelming. I felt tiny, compared to its vast existence. In turn, it felt tiny in comparison to the Void in which I cradled it. The two perspectives were at odds with each other, vying for dominance, but I found they coexisted well despite their polarity. They encircled each other, devouring and giving rise to the next iteration of its cycle until I was unsure which defined reality. Perhaps they both did. 

         “Do you see those cluster of bright stars?” He vaguely pointed, and I squinted trying to follow. “There, there, and that point there?”

         “I think?”

         “Now follow that line back, then up and down in a ‘v’, and then - well, I’ll draw it in the dirt.” He hastily crouched down, finger imprinting small ravines beneath the foliage that was clear enough to let in the dim light of the lamps. “That’s the Aquila constellation.”

         “Aquila. Latin for eagle. It lies upon the celestial equator, the brightest star it contains is Altair, which is the twelfth brightest star in Earth’s sky.” I recited.

         “Yes.” T’Challa chuckled dryly. “What do you think?” He motioned upwards, sweeping his hand in a wide arch underneath the twinkling distant holes.

         “Could you show me more constellations?”

         “Of course.” He smiled gently, patting the ground next to him. I took my place, Okoye standing protectively behind us as he began to point out distinct stars in the multitude of a trillion remote individual refractions. Their diminutive glow filled me with hope, until I felt my chest brimming with the exotic sensation that I had denied myself since my birth. 

          Like a rush of adrenaline, I felt a surge of strength - renewed not borrowed. Was this why they had kept me in despair? To drown me, to contain my aspirations so that I would not know my own possible strength? Hope was a dangerous, delicate thing to balance. Taken too far it became idealism, left to die it became despondency. But for now, looking upwards and outwards towards the stars, I dared to hope. And that, I found, was not a bad thing.


	22. Forgive and Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a human saying: forgive and forget. And while I understand the concept, I cannot agree with its porportent idealism. Forgiveness is one thing. One must be able to let go and accept. To not do so is a crime more heinous than denying reality - it is actively trying to rewrite it. Forgiveness has nothing to do with condonement or appeasing the offending party. It is selfish, and only meant to protect oneself from further harm. There is nothing wrong with that.
> 
> It is the forgetting that I have trouble wrapping my mind around. To forget is to let them do so again. Forgiveness does not stop them from lashing out, nor the past repeating itself. Why then, should I try to forget the wrong-doings that have been done unto me? I will not settle. I refuse to lay-low and bear the brunt of their punishment. But I have already forgiven. It is beneath me now to dredge it up. To do so would only bring myself more harm.
> 
> But I will not forget, not entirely. Not like they wish me to. Nerves and thoughts are malleable. I have left the impressions for my subconscious, so that they will never suspect. They will think me delusions and pitiable, and for once they might be right. But it will not matter. They will be dead.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________       

        I remained under the stars for as long as they let me, which was until Okoye had heard more than enough stifled yawns from T’Challa to demand he return to his chambers and get some much needed rest. He nodded groggily, returning to his feet as he stretched his limbs high like a cat. I stood as well, quietly following them when Okoye growled and motioned for me to do so.

        She sent T’Challa off with two other bleary-eyed Dora Milaje who had evidently been waiting, grabbing my arm sternly when I made to accompany them.

        “Come with me.” She led me through the towering palace, taking the winding stairs to no doubt avoid prying eyes. “Do they feed you well?” She finally broke the tapping stillness of our ascension.

        “Loki and Jane bring me meals. Though, Jane has been busy recently. So, I guess just Loki now. He sneaks me sweets sometimes.” 

        “They have that viper bring you meals?” Okoye scoffed.

        “No. He brings them because he doesn’t want me to go hungry. He is kinder than you might think.” Even if his kindness was to get into my good graces. I would take what I could without complaint.

        “They… don’t actually feed you?”

        “I explained that I don’t  _ need _ food to live. Loki scolded me for a week straight for doing that. That was around the time Jane and him started bringing me my meals.”

        “You poor thing.” She muttered under her breath.

        “They let me retain my consciousness. They have not mutilated me much, or raped me. Stark comes in to show me new gadgets. Or fanciful, impractical toys of his that are better suited in a city like Wakanda than cooped up in his estates or my room, when he brings them in. Steve loaned me a wicker chair, a pillow, and a blanket. They’re mine unless I do something he deems unsavory.”

        “Darling.” She croaked, but I cut her off.

        “Loki is kinder than all of them combined. Jane is a close second, though.”

        “Is he now?” She tried to take it in stride, but the disdain was evident in her tone.

        “He lent me his book collection. When I read through them all, he recited what he could from memory in Asgard.”

        “It sounds to me that they’re trying to buy you.”

        “Loki is the only one who stays to watch over me.” I continued to defend him, knowing that while she was right about the others. But Loki was not like them in that regard. Not completely, anyways. Perhaps Jane too, but she was too innocent to understand what the others wanted her to do.

        “Watch over you when what?”

        “When they come to get their samples. Usually, now, it's just a couple of needles to draw blood, or trimmings of hair. Sometimes a skin sample.”

        “Now?” She halted upon the staircase, rooting me in place with her glaring gaze until I spoke.

        “There... was a pair of nurses who took larger samples, painful ones, when they learned I regenerate faster than even the Asgardian princes.”

        “Samples like what?” She bit.

        “My ears.” I gingerly caressed their tips, recalling them scraping them off with their scapulas, knowing that if I did anything to defend myself they would be the ones to claim self defense. It didn’t hurt much in the grand scheme of things, but it was discomforting. “Anything that they could slice off without worrying about dirtying the room or my attire.” Which it turned out, in the hands of trained professionals, was quite a lot. I relearned anatomy and some of my own inner workings first hand.

         I refrained from mentioning their revolting intention on obtaining a ‘deep rectal’ sample. It was what made me briefly whine to Loki about their rough inspections to begin with. Loki would have killed them outright if I had mentioned it. It was best he not get the chance to hear it viva voce either. His place amongst the rest was tenuous at best.

        “Fury never mentioned this to us.” Okoye breathed in sharply, feet pounding up the steps. “T’Challa will need to be informed.”

        “It’s okay.” I assured her quietly. “Loki wouldn’t let them harm me.” He needed me. Unless I proved otherwise, he would continue to do so.

        “Just because he protects you doesn’t make their actions right.” I bit my tongue, knowing that she was right. But what else was I to do but carry on? I would survive whatever onslaught they made me endure. The mere passage of time would be their undoing. “But is good to hear that there are a few looking out for you. I am… sorry to have called your friend a viper.” 

        “It’s okay. Most people think of him as such, but only because they don’t care to know him. People respond very differently to honesty. The good ones repay it in kind.”

        “And does he?” She inquired smartly as she opened the door to the twenty-second floor.

        “He does, so long as I am. Some things are painful though to speak of, and we both shy from verbalizing our fears. Sometimes, I take a leap of faith. He jumps in after me, rather than catching me.”

        “A rather insane notion.” Fitting, given his record on Earth.

        “Perhaps. But I grow more that way. We grow together. And it's easier climbing out of the pits that dwell in your mind with someone there to help you.”

        “Would it not be better to not fall altogether?” She huffed, striding down the glossed hallway with an air of importance despite its lack of residency.

        “You may think that is kindness, but falling is crucial in learning to stand again. It is far kinder in the long run to teach recovery, than to isolate and keep one naive. I would know.” My words echoed quietly past the corner before us.

        “I… suppose you would.” She agreed reluctantly before turning. 

        At the end of the hall were two towering heavy set wooden doors, set into the marbled stone by no hinges that were discernible to the eye. Ornate reliefs covered the dark wood, depicting the ancient history of Wakanda - their Orisha lining the sides, orchestrating their success through their hardships.

        “When word came to us that you had escaped, T’Challa sent word ahead to set up a place for you to stay just in case.” She explained, slamming the butt end of her spear into the ground. The entire hallway resounded in a boom not unlike thunder, though nothing stirred. Not the paintings, not the plants. The very walls themselves were made with vibranium, absorbing the sound completely before any harm could be done.

         “He anticipated my coming?”

         “He dared to hope. I did not believe him. But, here you are.” The doors groaned open, beckoning us both in towards a spacious room filled with furniture and decor the likeness of which I had only seen in Stark’s luxurious estates - what he had shown of them, anyways. “There is a set of kimoyo beads waiting for you on the bathroom counter. I will send for some clothes right away.”

         “Ah. There is no need. A nice lady at the market - oh no.” I paled. “I left my bag in the garden.” I whispered in horror. They were all I had, and I had forgotten them so easily. How cruel of me.

         “I will have a guard go fetch it.” Okoye promised. “Did you steal clothes?” She raised her brow in a judgmental fashion.

         “No.” I scowled at the very thought of stealing from someone I hardly knew. “There was this kind, older woman in the marketplace. She noticed me looking at one of her shirts and we ended up talking. She gave me a gift. It’s… all that I have that is mine.”

         “She talked to a woman in a bloody medical gown?” Okoye was still dubious on the matter.

         “I was in an illusion.”

         “Ah. Right.” Her lips formed a thin line. Would she have rather me cause havoc in the streets with my appearance than alter my image so that I would not cause unnecessary alarm? “In any case, we have made sure to supply the room with whatever you may need. Towels, washing supplies, books. If there is anything you would like, you have but to ask.”

         “I can  _ bathe _ ?” Okoye could hardly mask her appall. 

         “They didn’t let you wash?”

         “T-there was no place to do so in my room, and I was not allowed out of it.”

         “How did you use the bathroom?” I tilted my head in confusion. “Poop. Pee.” She bit frustratedly. For a woman who was used to bloodshed and battle, she still found it awkward to talk of life necessities. 

         “Oh. I don’t need to. My body breaks down everything into pure energy and stores it in a pocket dimension to be used whenever necessary.” She nodded slowly, eyes bulging and lips pursed.

“Well that’s… good.” She fumbled with her lips for a moment, caught off guard. “Is there anything I can get you besides your clothes before I take my leave for the night?”

         “I don’t want to ask for too much, but would it be all right to ask for some pants or the leggings that Jane wears sometimes? I don’t know much about fashion, but from what I’ve seen I’m suppose to wear a shirt and something on the bottom.”

         “Of course. Do you have underwear?”

         “Ah… no?”

         “They didn’t give you panties or a bra?” Okoye bit scathingly.

         “It wasn’t necessary.” I mumbled. “The gown hides everything.” Okoye gave me a once over, nodding sourly.

         “I suppose. It still isn’t right. I shall return with what you need.”

         “Ah, don’t rush.”

         “Why not?” She eyed me slyly.

         “It’s late, and I know you’re tired. I can wait until the morning. I won’t go anywhere. This room is much nicer. Larger. With a bigger bed. But it’s not on wheels.” I noted dejectedly. It was always fun when Loki would cart me around the room.

         “A medical table isn’t a bed, darling.” Okoye loosed a weary suspiration.

         “It was padded.”

         “That’s still not a bed. Now go,” She urged before I could retort. “, take a bath. You smell horrendous. I will return.” She marched out the door swiftly, not giving me time to get a word in edgewise. 

         I twiddled my thumbs, as I often did in the awkward moments of silence that occasionally occurred between Loki and I. Recently they ended up spinning around each other endlessly whenever Stark and his jabbering mouth were around. Stark was smart, he was witty, but he wasn’t wise. But, I supposed he would know how to run the shower unlike myself. No time like the present in which to learn, I grumbled to myself as I stalked towards the door that Okoye had pointed to.

        Everything was different here. The walls were hard and unforgiving, the corners sharp and edged, the floor was softer and squishier than the padding on my bed.  _ The floor _ . Well, perhaps not in the bathroom. It would absorb too much water that way. But everywhere else in the room it was. This wasn’t a jail cell. I wasn't a prisoner. This was a room.  _ My _ room. And I was a guest. The thought made me giddy, enough to almost forget what landed me here.

        I shook my head, knowing that I would return to him, to the Wolf that ate my heart. I need not have to. I could remain here, or in places akin to this. Safe, spoiled, and ultimately looked after. But I wouldn’t be happy. Not in the long term. Their words hurt, their scalpels hurt, the smiles that the others sometimes faked to hide their concern hurt. But it was okay because I had a chance to make everything better. Hope had kept me alive, and it would not let me surrender so easily to the whims of another.

        I shivered from the thought as I rid myself of the garment that the Wolf had ragged on more than one occasion. He detested the garment. It wasn’t  _ modest _ , despite it covering everything completely. It was practical, I reminded him. Practical in the sense that it made it easier for the nurses to obtain their measurements. He was right that it wasn’t all too comfortable. It felt open, despite its enclosure. Thin, and frail. All clothes were, but these were exceptionally so.

        Unsure of myself, I stepped timidly into the confines of the shower. It was about the quarter size of my previous room. I wasn’t sure if that made my cell small or the shower large. Why did you even need this much space to clean yourself? I looked up, trying to find the shower head when I realized it was set into the ceiling above. There was about a two foot gap of where I assumed no water would pour before a four foot square of torrential downpour. Shelves were set into the walls as to not take up precious space, regardless of the available quantity of it. Each one held small containers, similar to what Jane usually brought condiments in only much, much larger.

        I inspected them one by one. Shampoo. Conditioner. Body soap. Sugar scrub. Bar soap. Moisturizing soap. Scratchy-soap-bars-that-seemed-more-like-sandpaper-than-soap soap. Each was left unlabeled, save its nature and its scent: lavender. Was I supposed to use all of these? I wasn’t aware I needed to use more than three at most if I included the conditioner. I shrugged to myself, turning to the console on the left wall of the shower.

        I squinted at it, trying to decipher its symbols. They hardly made sense to me. What did a half circle with dotted lines under it mean opposed to an umbrella without the hook on the end? If only I could transfer my mind into the simple machine this very moment and understand its workings. Irritatedly, I pressed the umbrella. I screeched, the high-pitched cry echoing off the laughing walls as water blasted down from the ceiling. I wanted to take a shower, not be power washed!

        I hastily hit one of the other settings and the rush of harsh water stilled to a drizzle. Okay. That wasn’t what I wanted either. It was more of a mist than anything else, like that which Loki conjured when he was embellishing a story. How was I supposed to wash in that? Begrudgingly, I tapped another one of the settings - the one with the dotted lines. I released a sigh of relief as the water began rapping steadily, but nonetheless gently, against the floor. Well, that was an experience, I asserted to myself silently as I entered the stream.

        I exited it with a sharp hiss a few seconds later, colorful curses (that Jane had unwittingly taught me) flying from my mouth. It was  _ cold _ . Not the ‘oh, no it’s just slightly chilly in the room, I’ll huddle in my wicker chair cold.’ Oh no. This was ‘diving off a glacier into the water in the antarctic’ cold. Perhaps a bit exacerbated, but I so was I. I didn’t even know what the former felt like. I had been on the receiving end of far too many surprises recently, I was quite done for a while. A least a night, anyways.

        I quickly found the temperature gauge on the screen, holding my quaking body as I tapped the plus sign multiple times. Almost instantaneously the shower as a whole felt warmer, steam rising up from the middle and outwards. I made to move into the promising rain, only to remember myself and what had just happened moments ago. With a diffident arm I tested the water, yanking it back before it could redden further. Yeah. Too hot. Far too hot. I quickly turned it down a level, moving to test it with my other arm only to realize that it was ashen and devoid of feeling all together.

        I had forgotten about that. Father’s last parting gift. How kind of him. I grimaced, lowering myself along the wall until I was sitting, feet a few inches into the inviting warmth of the precipitation. At least I had finally gotten the temperature right, I groused. With a feeble susurration, I looked down upon it. The Void had only stripped the life from beneath my elbow. I was lucky, if that was the correct way to look at it. I grit my teeth, eyes heavy lidded as I tugged on the Void.

        It responded, eager to please it’s new master, confused to find it in a physical shell. At the very least it knew better than to question. It knew its purpose: to consume. Without any warning, a ripple of light seeped out from the empty space between the water and I, tendrils of brilliance wrapping and swallowing my lifeless limb whole. There was no pain, for it would cause none to me or to any that I wished no harm to come to. But I was still aware of the sensation of sawing, of teeth made of energy ripping the muscles apart, severing nerves, and  _ chewing _ . It was only for an instant, but my mind knew every detail that occurred within the moment.

        I shuddered, glancing down at the stub that was left once the light had ebbed, whisking off to join the steam that now clung to the panes of glass that acted as a door. With a sharp inhale, I heaved, pushing and groaning mentally down my neck, through my shoulder, and down what was left of my arm. I remember what it was: the muscles, the nerves, the skin. I knew, and my body knew. It quivered for an instant, spilling droplets of crimson upon the shower floor. It was all the warning I received.

        Out burst bone, ivory and pure. I held my upper arm back against the wall with my good hand, willing myself not to scream.  _ This _ hurt. But I had endured this and worse before, I told myself as I hissed in breaths through my clenched teeth. Tendons and ligaments sprouted and crawled along towards the joints, more bones for articulating the wrist materializing, then the metacarpals for the phalanges. Once the skeleton was complete, a wave of crimson threading rushed forward. Thin and delicate, the muscles I bore were not like those of the fragile humans. The Asgardians had a similar composition, but theirs had not been enhanced. It was also innately weaker than my own.

         I shook as the fibers connected to the limp tendons, face contorting as agony rippled along freshly set nerves when I balled my unskinned, blood-leaking hand into a fist. At least it worked properly, I huffed to myself. Only with that knowledge did I allow the skin to reform, covering the true nature of all physical beings. Content that I was whole once again, I stood on trembling legs. I was more than ready to get on with this shower and wash the pulsing ache out of my arm.

        The water was soothing, the warmth trickling in with every rivulet that flowed down my spine. Even my arm, raw and new, could not whine under its comforting fall. I wondered if this was what rain felt like, only colder. Most likely, I decided. But that didn’t stop me from still wishing to experience the rain either. There were many things that had been described to me with the semblance of another. Regardless of their similarities, I wanted to understand them all.

        I turned, neck craning unexpectedly. My hair was matted and heavy, clinging to my backside and curling at my curves. It was too be expected, yet it surprised me. I had never wet my hair before. I flung it around, water spraying harshly against the walls as I did so. It was darker now, richer; stained by the water that was stealing away all the little pieces of dirt it might have accumulated. Eager, I opened the shampoo bottle and readied some in my hand.

       Working it into the hair was more arduous than I original thought. The strands didn’t want to part, and my hair didn’t want to let the water in. I could see now why shorter hairstyles were often more practical. No sane human would want to spend hours of their precious, flickering lifespan washing their hair. Their lives were spent out in the world. Still, I found I enjoyed my locks despite requiring inordinate amounts of shampoo to wash. It played on people’s perceptions, made it easier to hide what others thought winsome.

        Loki chided me for doing so. Beauty was to be appreciated and adored. But he didn’t understand. People were cruel. They did not have his restraint. They took what was beautiful, regardless of whether or not it consented. They didn’t care. Those that didn’t became green with jealousy. A shade of green, that despite my love for the color in general, I abhorred. Jealousy, I found, gave rise to the most sadistic of tortures, amplified when my flesh healed time and time again. Those that could not see the beauty in themselves could not take mine away from me, and it enraged them.

        I stood under the everlasting rain, watching the suds in my palms run down my arms to my stomach and race to my feet. I could feel them crawling along my back as well, slowing at the hump of the cushion I could do without, before joining the rest down the drain. I released my pent up anxiety on the matter with a controlled breath. Showers were meant for two things, Loki explained to me on our first visit: relaxing and getting clean. He actually mentioned three, but I not as promiscuous as he.

        I forwent the conditioner, knowing that my hair would retain it’s nature without the aid of chemicals and began looking at what to wash the rest of myself with. Sugar scrub was to clean out pores, or so the data in my mind told me. But what defined clogged pores? Could I get clogged pores? I wasn’t sure. I certainly didn’t have any problems with pimples, but I didn’t think my body could form those. My skin felt moist enough as well. Rather, it couldn’t dry out. So there was no point in wasting the fancy stuff. Besides, all I was here to do was to get rid of the stench of dried blood. 

        I hesitantly grabbed the regular soap, after mistakenly grabbing the bar soap. It slipped from my hands the moment I entered the water and I ended up chasing and fumbling with it just to get it back in its place. It would have been mortifying if someone were watching. I cleared my throat as I began to wash, the soap frothing under the friction of my hand as I scrubbed. I giggled, heaping the bubbles into a greater and greater pile before mocking my childish behavior silently. This was a gift of its own. I should enjoy it, not waste it on pointless frivolity. Still, I supposed a bit of fun,  _ just _ a bit, didn’t hurt.

        It was over sooner than I had wished, though I took far longer than anticipated. I would have stayed longer within the steaming confines of those welcoming walls were it not for the fact that I knew water was valuable. Millions went without water, over a billion were not granted the luxury of a shower the likes of one I was just privy to. I padded over to the cupboard of folded towels, rubbing the water off and using the Void to siphon the water out of my chilling hair. Even these fluffed towels were a sign of opulence I was not accustomed to.

        Wrapping it securely around my chest, holding it with one hand, I walked back into the main room. It was as I had left it, save for a small bag that sat atop the dresser against the near wall. Okoye had already come and left it seemed. At least now she was sleeping. As should I be, I reminded myself when I found my eyes drooping.

        Today was a good day, despite the absence of the Wolf. He wasn’t here to ease the passage of time, but for once he didn’t need to be. I wondered, as I slipped under the numerous blankets that adorned the bed, if he was aware of my absence as much as I was his. Did he miss me? Did the little things remind him of me in the sharp, twinging ways that they did me? Or did he take it in stride as he done so many other times before in his life, moving past my presence and forgetting my existence entirely?

        I hoped so, as sadistic of a wish that was. I wanted him to hurt in return for the way he had hurt me, not out of spite but so that he would learn that he was the one causing himself pain as well. It would be easier that way, if he healed. There would be less distractions, allowing him to perceive the unspoken. He had to. But I suppose only time would tell. For now, I would forgive. In the morning, I would forget.


	23. Rapprochement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My mind has often dwelt on the foolish dream of seeing them again. My brother, my mother, my long lost friends - any of them or all of them. I wouldn’t be picky. At first I wondered what it would be like to see them. How would they have changed? Would my brother be even taller? Would my mother still scold me gently for my insecurities? Would my friends even recognize me? But I realized then: it mattered not what either of us looked like. Even now, with my memory shattered and strewn about, it is not their haunting visages that evoke my longing. It is the sentiments that accompany them.
> 
> What new emotions would be plucked from my heartstrings? Love? Happiness? Bittersweet nostalgia? Though I wish for all these things and more, my heart only drowns in dread and wormwood at their continued existence and I find myself praying that they met swift ends. Not because I mean them ill will, but because I know better than to doubt the fear my nonexistent heart bleeds.  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        He hadn’t seen her in almost a month now. It had been three weeks with a careful watch upon the borders of the Helicarrier, three weeks since the Wakandans forcefully kept them grounded. Two weeks since they detained them to their ship. A week since that terse and ill advised ban was lifted. Fury and T’Challa were locked in fierce negotiations, though neither would say a word about her to the rest of them.

        He knew Fury wanted her back under the unblinking eye of S.H.I.E.L.D. . Fury claimed that she could be an asset - one worth risking their reputation on. But noone lied to the God of Mischief. Fury wanted a weapon. If she really could defeat Thanos and his army single handedly, she was in all regards more powerful than Odin. She was the living embodiment of power. Once, he might have joined Fury’s side: power was meant to be used. And to that point, he still believed that she should use it - especially if he could manipulate her into using it for his own ends.

        But she was also _living_. Breathing. Fury didn’t see it that way. Or, rather, Fury did. Fury just didn’t care. What was the life of one creature, accustomed to pain and abuse compared to the countless lives she could save and even enable? That being said, those lives were only pertinent if they lived on Earth. The rest of the multiverse could “go fuck themselves” as Fury had so eloquently put it. Typical mortal mentality to ignore the rest of reality, believing themselves the center of the multiverse. Then again… he supposed he was prone to doing the same.

        It made him question his affiliation with them all the more. Even those who had once staunchly defended Fury’s stance were beginning to balk. Steve, on more than one occasion, actually came to him, rather than Thor, for advice. Surprising, when they both knew they couldn’t quite see eye to eye. It didn’t help that he had a hard time convincing himself that Steve wasn’t dimwitted when they conversed. He had been trying so hellishly hard to reverse his innate sense of Asgardian superiority as of late. It didn’t stop him from wittily retorting, but there were times now that even Steve laughed at his once biting jokes.

        In fact, if he was honest, the whole lot of them had actually been getting along better now since her absence. Banner and Selvig had invited him, without Jane even, to their discussions on space-time relativity - a subject that though they were knowledgeable on, were not lords over like they were gamma radiation. Stark’s jabber eased to the point where the Iron Man might actually give out genuine advice. Most of the time they were on locales, usually foods or dishes to avoid, as Stark and Thor were always insisting on perusing Wakanda. Why waste the opportunity they had been given?

        And while he did enjoy the new found friendships and amusing company, he knew the truth: they were attempting to fill the gap left by her absence. But none of them held a candle to her sun. He longed to apricate as he once did, draped over her sham of a 'bed', or against a wall. Reading, talking, exploring the wonders of magic - it mattered not. He dreamt of her, her visage never quite concrete as his memory. But still, he knew from the song that remained unsung in the air that it was her. Each time he woke he could hardly bear the weight of gravity for a short while. The day felt pointless without a friend to share it with. But, he insisted on getting up nonetheless.

        She was out there, in the world - where he should be as well. Amidst all the wonders and horrors that she so wantonly wished to see. He wondered what new things she had experience now. What he had missed. The food here was spiced heavily, though not with an inordinate amount of heat. She would have enjoyed it. The colors they draped across themselves and their country were vivid and breathtaking. Despite the simplicity of their attire, he could see her itching to imagine herself in such clothing. Perhaps even more so thanks to its plainness.

        "Hey, you holding together all right?” He perked up at the sound of his brother’s voice. They had gotten closer over the whole affair. Relied on each other, like they once had. Thor was trying to sort out Jane’s reluctance to give him a second chance and he, well, he was trying to figure out how to get his one and only friend back.

        “Oh yeah, yeah.” He nodded casually, but even Thor was getting good at spotting the lies when he wasn’t trying too hard.

        “Loki.” He tsked, not caring to carve out a bit more of his heart today. Between his own depressed musings and Thor’s moping he wasn’t sure he could take much more. “Loki, T’Challa’s asked for you.” His eyes darted up.

        “He has? Why didn’t one of Fury’s men inform me?”

        “Stark and I were out for lunch and one of his warrior women, the Dora Miljavey -”

        “Dore Miljae.” He instinctively corrected.

        “Right. Those. Bald head, pointy spears, female. Anyway, one of them informed us that the king required your presence.”

        “Required is a strong word for a simple audience.”

        “I know.” Thor huffed.

        “Does Fury know?” Thor mouthed the word ‘no’, letting it hang silently in the air. “I think T’Challa has her. Or knows her location.”

        “There’s no question.” Thor grimly agreed before explaining. “You’ve missed out on a lot of dinners this past week. We’ve been… discussing the situation privately when we can.”

        “We?”

        “Those of us that don’t agree with Fury’s methods or reasoning. Stark. Steve. Banner, Selvig. Natasha. Clint. Jane.”

        “Strange?”

        “What no, it’s not strange -”

       “ _No_. Doctor Strange?”

       “Oh.” Thor paused for a moment. “He isn’t against us, but he isn’t for us either. He wants her -”

       “Gone?” He bitterly recalled the xenophobic venom that Strange had spat at him and his brother’s involvement in Earth’s affairs. Earth continued existence was in no small part to Asgardians. Odin in particular, though he was loathe to admit. Now, that overwatch was set on Thor’s untested shoulders. Not that the Doctor cared who oversaw Earth. Only that it was done by midgardians. Typical, bigoted humans.

       “-ki?”

       “Sorry, brother.” He weaved a hand into his hair as he apologized.

       “Try not to get too lost in that labyrinth of a brain that you have.”

       “That’s a rather large word for you. I’m impressed.”

       “Haha. Very funny. You know, I recall getting a better grade in Asgardian poetry than you.”

       “That’s hardly diction. And it was only because you were studying to woo your latest crush at the time. Also, our tutor was biased.”

       “Of course he was.”

       “What? He was.”

       “You also wrote a lot of things to pointedly embarrass and shame him.”

       “Yes, well. At the time it felt justifiable since he was insistent on doing the same to me.”

       “God, people treated you like shit didn’t they?” Thor breathed in amazement.

       “And you wonder why I went insane.”

       “You know I won’t let them continue to do so.”

       “Thor, you don’t have any power in the matter. And we both know what happened the last time you went against Odin’s orders.”

       “Father can’t just keep -”

       “He’s been set in his ways for thousands of years.” He cut Thor off. Odin would not see him as his an equal to Thor. To Odin, he owed Asgard everything. He was alive, thanks to Odin. Kept his station as a prince despite his usefulness never coming to fruition, thanks to Odin. All Odin wanted of him now was an obedient, quiet servant. But he grew up in shame, not knowing why. No matter what he did as a young boy, a young man even, nothing would please Odin. Odin wouldn’t let himself take pride in one not his own. How was he supposed to suppress all the rage inducing agony for the rest of his life? “It’s all right now, though.”

       “Loki.”

       “I’m serious. I mean, I’ll have plenty of words to spit at him when - if - I return. But I think this unexpected venture has been good for me.”

       “I think your little ‘Lamb’ has been good for you.” He couldn’t contain his snort of amusement.

       “Not this again.”

       “I mean, I think the nicknames are weird. Has she not really told you her name? No? Wow. And I thought Jane and I were taking it slow.”

       “How many times do I have to remind you that Lamb and I are _friends_?” Or were. Or hoped to be. He really had soured things between them.

       “And how many times do I have to tell you that even I’m not foolish enough to believe that?” He rolled his eyes, fingers twitching as he barely refrained from throwing his arms up in the air. “Besides, I can kind of see it. You know, the Wolf devouring the helpless little Lamb. Not quite my taste but -”

       “You of all people would bring it _there_.”

       “What?” Thor scoffed innocently.

       “You know exactly what.” He bit dryly. “You know that she doesn’t even have a mind for that sort of thing.”

       “But you do.” Thor snickered. “Honestly, I can’t imagine trying to flirt with her. I feel like it would just pass through her ears.”

       “It does.” He agreed nonchalantly.

       “Oh, so you _have_ flirted with her.”

       “Charming her was the first thing I attempted to do. Didn’t you learn anything in Asgardian Manipulation? Sorry, I mean Political Diplomacy 101.”

       “Ah, no. I skipped most of those classes. So you really aren’t interested at all?”

       “Well,” He cleared his throat. “, I didn’t say _that_. I mean have you _seen_ her?” Thor nodded giddily, but was quick to mention that Jane still bested her in his mind. The classic model of romance, but understandable given that it was Thor. “But she’s in no position to consider any sort of romantic relationship at the moment.” He could hardly see her even understanding what that entailed. She knew, just… didn’t understand. Such a frustrating concept.

       “Oh, _romance_ is it now?”

       “Frigga spank you with a frying pan.”

       “She did that once.” Thor noted absentmindedly between chuckles. “Rather, threw it at my ass as I tore out of the kitchens. I couldn’t sit without biting my tongue for a week.”

       “I’m not surprised. For all the mischief I was held accountable for in my youth, at least half of it was yours. You might have fooled the others, but mother always knew better.”

       “Yes she did.” Thor wrapped an arm around his shoulders and patted him gently before squeezing it. “She’d be so happy to see you in love.”

       “Oh for - I’m not -” But he could barely muster the words past the knot of his tongue and Thor’s boisterous laughter. With a growl he stood, tugging on his attire to straighten it and dusting away any loose threads from the flimsy blanket. “Don’t want to keep T’Challa waiting.” He explained tersely.

       “Oh, of course.” Thor drawled with a smirk.

       “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be back soon for you to harp on me more.”

       “Aye. I will see you soon, brother.” He grinned, nodding a goodbye and heading out the door.

       He was familiar now with the quickest route to the ship’s loading bay. Until recently he had often found himself pacing there lost in livid thoughts, absentmindedly hoping for her return. He had since then taken to stalking the borders of his room when several workers complained to Fury about his continually sour presence. Not that he didn’t frequent the bay still. They all did to some degree.

       What he could not grow accustomed to was the heat, he growled irritatedly in his mind. Wakanda was amicable, nigh enjoyable at night - though the humidity right after dusk was atrocious. During the day, however, it was dry and overbearing. There was no escaping the vehemence of the sun, save in the confines of the Helicarrier or the architectural marvels further into Wakanda. Those that had lived here were indifferent to it. But he was a _frost_ giant. He wasn’t particularly found of blazing heat. Mild summer days with a cool breeze? Lovely. This? It made him regret wearing his leather coat. He _loved_ his leather coat.

       The main thoroughfare was bustling during the day. It was hard to politely skirt by people, and most of the time he ended up jostled into, or rather a top of, someone else despite his best attempts to weave amidst the crowd. He had forgotten how much he towered over most humans until he was swimming in them, head bobbing as he wadded towards his destination. It made window browsing that much easier, he mused, though his eyes cared not for the ruckus from the shops.

       His breaths came easier as he made it out of the densest part of throng and out the western entrance of the marketplace district. With a few sharp turns in some back allies, he found what he was looking for. Before him lay a long and dusty road, bereft of civilization save the glistening towers in the distance. This path was sacred and not tread upon lightly. Wincing inwardly, he began the crossing.

       He made it about fifteen feet before staccatoed shouting rose over the din of the crowd a few blocks back. Grimacing, he turned with his hands raised in an offering of peace as two guardsmen approached with their weapons at the ready. The spoke quickly, angrily, in a tongue he knew was there own but had not taken the time to learn himself.

       “I don’t understand you.” He pleaded honestly, so against his nature that it made his teeth ache as his jaw clenched. But he couldn’t hide in an illusion, or leave them in their own pools of blood for stopping a prince of Asgard. Diplomacy was his only angle at the moment.

       “Who are you and what are you doing here?” The man on the left spoke in a clipped tone, his voice rising and falling to the beat of his tongue.

       “I am Loki, of Asgard.” He began. Not a good start, considering that their gazes turned acidic and their fists squeezed their hilts audibly. “I received word from my brother, Thor, that T’Challa ‘required my presence’.”

       “The King has not notified us of this.” The one on the right growled.

       “Is there a Dore Milaje I could speak to? I am sure -”

       “Do you think us stupid?” The one the right sneered. “I ought to cut that forked tongue of yours out.”

       “If you tried, you would have no hands with which to do so.” He jumped in surprise at the cool threat that came from behind him. “My apologies, Prince Loki.” The woman’s voice strained as it pronounced his title, but whoever it was honored him all the same. He remained still as the body came to his side, and he peeked over to see none other than a Dore Milaje glaring in disdain at the guardsman.

       “Okoye, we did not know. We did not -”

       “Think to ask or send word before sinking to threats?” She continued to scold them in her native tongue, each beat of her speech leaving them shirking back further and further before she shooed them away once her lecture was finished. They all but whimpered as they returned back to their posts dejectedly.

       “Thank you.” He announced as she turned. She glanced at him, nodded, then began the walk to the palace. He knew there would disdain for him after his actions in New York. But he never anticipated how long his brief period of insanity would stain his reputation. Awkwardly he trailed behind her, not knowing if he should even attempt to use his silvertongue. Thankfully, it was his lead, this ‘Okoye’, that spoke up first.

       “She speaks of you often.” There was no room for doubt as to whom she was speaking of.

       “You’ve seen her? Is she all right? Is she -”

       “She is growing accustomed to life without a cell for definition.” Okoye chuckled at his sudden lack of composure.

       “So she’s safe? You haven’t harmed her? Or she hasn’t -”

       “She’s _fine_ , Prince Loki.” Okoye assured him firmly. “She smells better than she did when she first came here.” He wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. “She has access to her own private shower now.”

       “Ah. That’s good.” He murmured, lips curling upwards at the tips. He had wanted to be there when she experienced her first ‘false rain’ as she had coined it. Not actually in the shower mind you. Just waiting for her when she finished. He couldn’t imagine the exhilaration of the running water, or the coolness of soap suds, nor the relief of steam that would practically be bursting from the seams once she exited the bathroom. It would be a spectacle to experience secondhand if she retained her unnatural aura about her.

       “We took the liberty of torching the gown she wore. As recompense, we have supplied her with a suitable wardrobe as a replacement.” Okoye tilted her head, then, “She said you detested that particular piece of clothing.”

       “I did. It wasn’t right for her to be given only that to wear. It was demeaning and uncalled for.” He affirmed eagerly, both in part to make a good impression and to express his gratitude for their kinder take on sheltering her. It made it easier to get closer. And perhaps she would be more lenient and forgive him without much begging.

       “As were a lot of things Fury has put her through.”

       The protracted track that stretched forever into the horizon of towers appeared to be just a mirage, and it felt like they had only just begun conversing when his feet tapped against solid stone. She led him up the steps, through the glass doors that opened to the pound of her spear, and into a towering palace that reminded him that even those not belonging to Asgard could create marvels of their own.

       “This way.” Okoye called out to him when he remained stupefied at the midgardian splendor. He cleared his throat, hurriedly catching up to her as she began ascending without waiting for him.

       “Will I be able to see her?” He murmured the thought that coiled around his heart so tight he was afraid it might stop beating altogether. It needed to be done, but he still feared it nonetheless.

       “That is for not for me to decide.”

       “Will the King let me -” He began again only to have her cut him short.

       “That is not for him to decide either.” Okoye stopped before modest, heavy set wooden doors that was the endpoint of both curling staircases he realized. “She is a guest here, not a prisoner. If she wants to see you, she will.”

       Okoye’s words brought him peace about the near month he had not seen her. Her life had not been convivial aboard the Helicarrier, despite her protests that it was more than she had dared to dream of. He hoped she understood now, that she was not eager to return to the confines of that dismal cell they called her room. He wanted her to understand that there was more to life than existence. And perhaps, once she understood that, she would aid him willingly in exchange for a life worth living.

       “The King is waiting inside for you.” Okoye motioned for him to enter.

       “You’re not… coming in? Protect your King and all.” Okoye’s eyes narrowed.

       “He has ordered for this to be a private meeting. We have the assurance of the Orisha that no harm shall come to him.” He nodded once, turning away to hide his growing confusion. Had Okoye just referred to the Lamb as the ‘Orisha’? Did she know she was being sudo-worshiped? Perhaps that sentiment was what had kept her safe here.

       He squinted as he entered the audience chamber, the light of the setting sun entering the wall of glass along the far wall and refracting off mirrored stone high above. Shoving past the wall of light, he entered the ring and found himself face to face with T’Challa.

       “Greetings, Prince Loki.” T’Challa stood, bowing his head ever so slightly in recognition. “I hope your walk here was not unpleasant.”

       “The heat does not suit me, and my presence seems to bring unease in its wake.” He admitted stiffly.

       “I apologize for the nature of my people. It is a trying time. We have only shown our true face to the world recently. As for the heat, I am afraid that we do not possess any capabilities to control it. But, I did not call you here without reason.” T’Challa vowed.

       “You know where she is, don’t you?” His chest felt taut, burning as if lit by a fire from inside.

       “Yes.” T’Challa answered straightforward. T’Challa leaned forward, a smirk stretching wide across his lips. He edged closer at T’Challa’s promised secret. “Ah, it seems she go word already. She’s actually right behind you.” His breath got lost in his throat, eyes widening as he spun on his heel at the low reverberating shudder of the door closing behind him. He had not expected her to come, but then again she was always full of surprises.

       She stood there, thumbs nervously battling as she darted her gaze everywhere but him. He sucked in a breath, taking the sight of her in with it. She was clad in a once simple shirt, a dark rich green that made his attire jealous, tailored to her form, that danced just below the middle of her thighs. Her legs were wrapped in stockings akin to what Jane wore whenever she had visited the Lamb. Okoye was right. She was being treated well. She was practically glowing.

       “Hi. Loki.” She managed to choke the two words out. He now understood Thor’s reaction to seeing Jane for the first time in years. His chest was tearing in two, his heart aching almost as fiercely as when he had confronted Odin. His tongue felt like lead, and he wasn’t sure how to greet her, the friend he threw away. But he didn’t need to, did he? She had done so for him.

       “Lamb.” He bore down upon her as soon as the word shattered his musings. Arms wrapped around her waist, no longer timid and reticent as he pulled her form into his. He never realized that she towered above the rest like him, her nose tickling the underside of his chin as she tucked her head in his neck. “I’m sorry.” He whispered hoarsely. “I was wrong. I was scared… . I don’t want to hurt you. I -”

       “Shh.” She quieted him with a murmur as she nuzzled further down into his shoulder, timidly patting him on the back in an awkward fashion. She wasn’t quite sure how to take this sudden rush of physicality, but she accepted it as best she could. He could smell the salt in the air, feel the dampness on his neck where her cheek had laid. “It… it’s okay. Just… don’t let go just yet. Okay?”

       They both needed this, he realized - to know that it was all right once more, that their hard laid plans were not for naught and that there was still hope to be found. It rested there, cradled between their arms as fragile as it was the first time - but it was there. That was what mattered.

       “I won’t let go. Not until you want me to.” He promised ardently into her hair. He would hold her as long as she needed him to if it meant keeping that hope alive.


	24. With The Best Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am often confused on the quickling’s definition of the concept of ‘trust’. They hold it to be an honorable and virtuous ideal, denoting faith and sometimes even righteousness. They do not understand that even the most duplicitous of schemers is still trustworthy; that a lie does not break true trust. Trust is not a matter of promised words and signed contracts. 
> 
> Trust is based on one’s predictability.
> 
> A liar will most often lie. You can trust him to do so, regardless of whether or not he promises veracity. Likewise, you can trust a greedy man to take more than his fair share - despite what he might assure you is rightfully his. It is the unpredictable, that which causes alarm and surprise, that breaks trust. 
> 
> I find myself now, watching the quicklings waste their lives upon blood-soaked battlefields in the name of broken trust, wondering if in their final moments they understand. It was not the enemy that betrayed them. It was not their commander. It was themselves.  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        T’Challa was a patient man, he noted gratefully as they at long last began to converse on the true reason for his presence here. The Lamb and him had been far too preoccupied with each other than to notice anything of import during their reunion, and T’Challa allowed them their time needed to reacquaint. She obliged to T’Challa’s request for privacy, reluctantly and only on the grounds that she would indeed see him again before he left, insisting on knowing all the details she had missed about what went on aboard the Helicarrier. Though she was happy with her new surroundings, it was clear she had grown attached to them all.

        It was now about an hour after a late dinner, the sun well below the horizon. Only the faintest hue of pink behind the backdrop of the canopy to the west gave any indication that it existed at all.

        “I apologize for singling you out, Loki.” T’Challa dropped the formalities once they had entered the royal gardens. “But of all the people available, she seems to trust you the most. Odd, given your record.”

        “It’s the title, isn’t it? But mischief isn’t so bad.” T’Challa eyed him warily but refrained from commenting. “But why not send Jane?” It was odd that she had been skipped over, given that there was no fear of discord between the two. It was a risk to send him, not knowing how she would accept him. He had been grateful, yes, but he didn’t think it wise.

        “I admit, that is what we wished for too.” T’Challa confessed. “But that would mean Thor’s escort, and Fury would suspect something immediately.” Fury no doubt already inferred his partial betrayal, but since he was of little use to him it mattered not in the Director’s mind. “Regardless, you should know that Fury will not be pleased to find you, of all people, consorting with me at such late hours.”

        “Well he hasn’t exactly done a lot to please the rest of us, has he?”

        “No.” T’Challa curtly replied. “He is set on learning and controlling her capabilities. His love for humanity, for Earth, is passionate, borderline maddening. And while I understand his viewpoint, I cannot agree to sacrifice the life of one woman just so he can set the rules. Protection is one thing. Weaponizing is another.” Both were short sighted. They were blind to the potential that even she so naively dismissed.

        “And what would you do?”

        “I would have her be free. She is as much a person as you or I. Her heart is pure and strong. Let her follow it. She will protect Earth and its denizens of her own accord. It is in her nature.” Was it? He wasn’t so sure. In all of the time spent getting to know her, he could not find an ounce of genuine care for humanity as a whole. There was curiosity. There was the growing affection she held for those she found amicable. But he never considered her one to love the Earth. She, at times, even spouted her disdain for their deeds and their regulations - finding little use for such laws if they were so easily broken without true consequences. T’Challa might be correct in thinking that she would protect the Earth, but it would not be out of good will towards men. 

        “She is still naive.”

        “That is why, I think, she has grown so attached to you.” T’Challa noted with mild amusement.

        “Because she does not know to fear me?” He scowled, temper rising at the insinuation that he might hurt her (again). He would use her, of course. They all wanted to use her in some fashion, save perhaps the benevolent king who still seemed too virtuous for him to take seriously.

        “No. Because you are not afraid of her. From Fury’s perspective, she is a bomb that failed to detonate properly. That fear has radiated to those closest to him. It is only recently, I think, that the rest of your companions have begun to see her with their own eyes.”

        “I see.”

        “Do not let it worry you, Loki.” T’Challa clasped him on the shoulder as they continued strolling the garden under the few stars that had just begun to peak out. “Her attachment has already long cemented into a relationship with you.” He glanced at T’Challa carefully out of side of his eye, not knowing if he was poking fun or easing his discomfort. 

        It disturbed him how quickly the mortals thought companionship meant more than just that. Even his brother was prone to falling into that trap it as of late. They couldn’t understand that neither of them were prepared or considering such a thing. He wasn’t foolish enough to waste the one friendship he was finally beginning to cement on something that made little difference towards his end goal.

        “I still do not know why you called for me.” He swallowed his growing irritation to regurgitate it at a later time.

        “It was for two reasons. The first, was she never seems actually shut up about you and the others.” T’Challa griped teasingly. “It’s ‘Loki likes this’, ‘Jane did that’, ‘Thor told me that’. It got to the point where her joy here was ebbing just from your absence.  _ Someone _ needed to come to her rescue, might as well be a prince.” He could not stop the spread of the smile at T’Challa’s romanticism of her circumstances. He was always one for the dramatic. “The second… .” T’Challa’s stride halted. “Loki.” He ceased moving along with him, smile dropping at T’Challa’s sudden seriousness. “She cannot go back there. She will not be safe, and you cannot always be there to protect her from Fury’s methods.” So she had been telling T’Challa of Fury’s objectionable treatment. 

        “What would you have her do? Stay here with you?” She seemed happy enough under the wings of the king. She was well fed and looked after, free to roam the widened cage of the palace grounds.

        “No.” T’Challa hastily cut that dream short. “I cannot have that either. Wakanda is already knee deep in political turmoil thanks to our timely reveal. We cannot draw more pressure upon us. Wakanda will fold and hide itself from the world again. I cannot let that happen.”

        “You want me to spirit her away. To take the fall.” He conceded to himself that the thought had already crossed his mind several times. Kidnapping her and removing the influence of the others would prove of great benefit, and it would not be the first time he shouldered the blow for someone else. But he smothered that inkling as soon as it was born. It would not ease the relations with his brother and she already endured enough suffering on the account of others. 

        “I had thought about it.” T’Challa admitted. “But she would never allow it. She is rather protective of you and the others. Causing a rift between the lot of you would cause her to resist, and we cannot do this peacefully if she does so… . No, I don’t want just  _ you _ to spirit her away.” T’Challa paced a few steps in an oval then, “Natasha Romanoff once invited me to join your team upon learning my… alter ego, let us call it. I declined, for my heart lies first in Wakanda and there it must stay. I had given the Avengers little thought until recently. Though I do not wish to ally myself vocally to such a group, I must express my joy when finding that the Avengers are not actually a substituent of S.H.I.E.L.D..” He raised an eyebrow in silent pride. So the King saw the value in scheming, unlike Odin.

        “You want us, the so called heroes that Fury assembled and hired, to turn against him?”

        “Technically speaking, Fury has not hired any of you. None of you, save perhaps the Widow and the Hawk, signed a contract with regards to him or S.H.I.E.L.D.. As for payment, Stark has been doling that out of his pocket in secret. And, while you have always respectfully gone to Fury for the ‘go ahead’, there are several occasions where certain members have gone against his wishes and he was ultimately helpless to dispense judgment.”

        “But where would we keep her? Where would be safe enough?” Fury’s arm was long. Wakanda could withstand his presence only because of their technological advantage. Other countries held no such edge against the might of S.H.I.E.L.D..

        “Stark has several… vacation homes, let us say, situated near key cities. With Shuri’s aid under the table, the two of them have been working to retrofit them into effective bunkers. Safe houses. She will be safer in any those than she is in the palace.”

        “You want us to lock her away in a remote corner of civilization?” He spat. Fury would inevitably find out, turning that promised harbor into a battlefield. Besides, she had just escaped the confines of one cell. He would not think her willing to be put into another so easily.

        “No. Quite the opposite in fact. These places are actually high contested locales. New York. Beijing. Tokyo. Chicago. There are a few smaller cities, but none under a million residents. While it goes against intuition, she will be safer there. Fury cannot lash out in public, especially in such an area with a high density population. He would risk collateral damage that would ultimately lead to staining his record. If we took her somewhere secluded he would throw everything he had at her.”

        “If you have already conducted business with Stark regarding this, why are you contacting  _ me _ ?” He would have been tugged along at Thor’s side, whether he wished it or not.

        “Because Stark and the rest of the Avengers have all agreed to this. You are not an Avenger. But you are not of S.H.I.E.L.D. either. In a sense, you the only allied to  _ her _ . The Lamb, as you call her. If you try to stop us, she will protect you on the grounds of not wishing to break that accord. If you agree, she will come willingly.”

        His breath caught in his throat. The shadows of his mind leapt for joy. A part of him, the twisted sociopathic, insane part of him, gloated at the power he held over what they all deemed omnipotent in their world. She  _ trusted _ him still. Him. The God of Mischief. What a foolish little girl. But no - no, no, no, he chided himself. This went beyond that, he reasoned with the madness. This was not the blind belief a mother had for her child, nor the connection that only brothers could share.

        She knew he was a Wolf, plain and true. Deceit was in his nature. Yet, he found it hard to form a solid deception around her. Nothing more than a white lie and duplicity by omission. Even if, when, he did use her for his own ends, she would still trust him. But perhaps it wasn’t  _ trust _ . But what was it then? What kept her under his salivating jaws? There was a confidence she held about him that even his mother wouldn’t dare to keep. An expectation that she held him to that others could not bring themselves to risk. Not in the goodness of his nature, for the Lamb knew that every light had its shadow.

        For the life of him, he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it because she was accustomed to the dark? She was not afraid of the beast that dwelt inside of him, even to be so critical as to refute his claims of it being a monster. 

        “I know I am giving you short notice, but I will be needing an answer by the morning.” T’Challa jarred him out of his thoughts abruptly.

        “Can you guarantee her safety?”

        “No. But no one can. I can only assure that she will be safer and happier there than here, or back under Fury’s eyes.” He bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. T’Challa was right of course. The Kings of Wakanda were often wise if nothing else, or so what little he read informed hi. T’Challa happened to be both wise and kind, patient and strong-willed. Odin would have looked upon T’Challa as a lesser for the Panther’s abstinence in warmongering. But he was not Odin, nor Odin’s son. 

        “I will do whatever it takes to keep her out of Fury’s reach. For now, I agree.” It was always best to add in conditional clauses when one did not want to outright lie but nonetheless withhold full consent. He did not want T’Challa to view him later as a common place liar when he did go back on his word. He would allow her to remain in their care so long as they cared for her, or until her safety or joy was at risk. Any rational being could not expect more out of him in this situation.

        “I am glad.” T’Challa grasped him on the upper arm solidly. 

        It shocked him to find that the King’s smile was honest and true. T’Challa did not care if he took her from them. Only that, if he did, he would be doing it in her best interest. He understood now why his little Lamb had gone to T’Challa. T’Challa was a good man. His heart ached bitterly. He was a good man a long time ago. But that time had passed long before she even knew of his existence. T’Challa was not the only one either. 

        The world was full of good men, just as the world was full of evil men. But it was always the good that were remembered, that were exemplified. For hundreds of years he stood under the shadows of what he thought were his towering ancestors, wishing to make them proud. It was agonizing to know he could never make any of his predecessors, true or false, satisfied. He belonged to no where, to no one. 

        But that was why she had so readily slipped into the vacancy at his side, wasn’t it? Friendship was one of the few luxuries he had not tasted, and she offered it without question. Not because she wished to use him, because he was part of a greater purpose in some scheme in that cunning head of hers. No. He would have thought her capable of such a thing once, but now he wasn’t sure. Not towards him or the others. Not maliciously. Her devious intents were contained only to those who harmed her, and only equal to the amount of injury inflicted.

        “Would you like to stay in the meantime while I begin to sort this all out?”

        “That would be best. Fury will not let me leave so easily again if I return.” T’Challa nodded understandingly.

        “Let me walk you to your room. It is only appropriate.”

        “Might I inquire as to where she is staying as well?” He ventured cautiously. Okoye had been clear that the Lamb was now free and no one, even the King, held jurisdiction over her.

        “She is staying in the room cater-cornered from yours. I suspect that the two of you will be seeing each other a lot as you previously did.” He breathed a sigh of relief, both in the knowledge of her whereabouts and his proximity to her. “She likes to rise with the sun and breath in the scent of the opening roses. You will find her here in the mornings, rain or shine. During the day, she often loses her way in the library. If she is not there, my little sister Shuri has most likely stolen her. I will notify the guards you are admitted into Shuri’s lab, so long as Shuri accepts you in. My little sister is mischievous in her own right, as well as brazen and loud. I will not condone any harm done to her, even if she irks you.”

        “I did not think such knowledge would be so freely given.” He admitted as they entered the palace and T’Challa guided him towards their version of an elevator.

        “And why is that?”

        “Okoye made it sound that all information regarding her was hers and hers alone to divulge.” He slyly accused the Dore Miljae from earlier. The spear-toting woman dared to hinder him in seeing that which was precious to him.

        “Ah. My apologies. She is protective of her. Perhaps to a fault. Okoye only wants to see her free and happy, and is worried what influence you may have upon her. I think she will see in time that you are both good for each other.” He returned T’Challa’s small smile, unsure of what the King meant. “There is a set of beads made ready for you on your bedside table. The second one to the right of your bioinfo, the primary bead, acts as a phone. There are several pre-programmed numbers. Stark supplied me with the Avenger’s contact list, and I took the liberty of adding those as well as practical utilities such as room service.”

       “It appears you’ve been working on this for a while.” He noted, wondering just how many ‘important dinners’ he had missed. Perhaps remaining cooped up in his room to wallow in his self-pity was not such a grand idea after all.

       “I merely have a hard working, over zealous sister. She was ardent before about foreigners, but now her passion has grown tenfold. She has been working tirelessly with the aid of your little Lamb. Quiet the dynamic duo in the lab. Don’t punch or touch anything if either of them whip out a camera. Not even for science.” T’Challa warned as they exited the elevator to a lavish floor.

       “Ah. Right. Of course.” He agreed in confusion. He didn’t quite understand, but T’Challa seemed earnest in the matter.

       The walls were made out of a polished, dark stone as they exited. Some sort of vibranium alloy most likely. Streaks of vibrant blue riddled the marbled rock, sometimes in fissures that spanned a foot or more in width. There were few decorations set in the hallway between doorways of dark cherry wood. A few paintings of cultural life in Wakanda, the cliche fern in a vase atop a table. This stretch felt barren and seldom used, despite the intricate detailing in what little there was.

       “This is your room.” T’Challa ushered him forward with a sweep of his hand as he opened a heavy door. It slid upon some hidden mechanism, groaning on hinges that were left unseen. Whatever this was made of, it wasn’t wood - that was just an ornate facade to hide the vibranium shielding within. This wasn’t just a room, he realized. He wasn’t just a guest. This was a safe house in and of itself. A bunker. “The bathroom is through there.” T’Challa pointed to the far right corner. “If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask.”

       “Thank you.” He replied gratefully. Once he would have not bothered to do so, he mused as T’Challa took his leave. Why respect those whose efforts were expected? He was their better. Their services were obligatory, not of free will. More often than not, it was a question of why honor those who bothered not to honor him.

        ‘Respect is earned’, Thor would chide him. He knew that. But he also knew that admiration was nearly impossible to obtain when society already had preconceived notions of what you were ingrained into them. Even he hated himself for what he was, raised on their ideals. The shock of unveiling himself as the monster he once hunted vehemently was enough to break him completely. In the end, he did become the monster the others saw in him as a child. He had help, but it was still his choice.

        But despite this, T’Challa respected him. It wasn’t that the King was condoning his previous actions, known or unknown. Hardly. There was a steep of bitterness in T’Challa’s voice when he briefly mentioned his less than stellar record on Earth. But he found that his actions since then had rectified his standing with the King in some unexpected way. He did not doubt the Lamb had something to do with it.

        She was the first to recognize him here, the first to withstand his scathing spit and whittle him down to his core. She respected him, but not in the same sense the others did. She cared little for titles; or riches; or power. In fact, she cared little for what most would value most when distributing respect. Thor was kind, just like Jane. A bit of a buffoon at times, but nonetheless good. But she didn’t hold Thor in high esteem like Jane or himself. Perhaps it was because Thor was guarded around her. She would only show her vulnerabilities to those who offered theirs in turn. Something he understood only after the fact he had learned several of her fears and realized a few of his own.

        How she had managed to worm through his maze of a mind was beyond. It took more than just cunning and nerve to delve into the mind of a madman. Especially unnoticed. Perhaps the pervading aura of pseudo telepathy that she exuded at times helped.

        He smiled softly to himself as he undid the buckles on his boots and slid out of them. The floor seemed clean enough to grace his feet. Sliding out of his coat, he set upon making himself presentable for her. It would do no good to come to her covered in dust and reeking of sweat from the mid-day sun. She had suffered through that once already, he would not put her through it twice. Not that it mattered, mind you. She would accept him as he was if he came to her now. But she had already put up with countless fools, he vowed he would not be among them. Steve had an awful habit of stopping by after working out, as if she would want to smell his stench. She was polite, only retching after the Captain left. 

        A sharp rap on his door shook him from his thoughts.

        “Yes?”

        “Can I come in, Loki?” Think of the devil.

        “Of course.” He hid his growing smirk as she opened the door.

        “I just wanted to - oh.” Her cheeks flooded pink as she covered her modest eyes with an offending palm. “Sorry. I didn’t realize -”

        “I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “What, don’t like what you see?” She huffed, letting her hand join the other at her hip but her eyes refused to grace his shirtless form. He chuckled at the sight of her lips mumbling something incoherent. “It’s good you came. I need to speak to you about something.”

        “Can you wear a shirt while you talk?” Did her voice just crack? Perhaps he was being a bit too forward after all. He was less pleasing to the eyes than the Captain to most, even if his ego wanted to have him believe else wise. She most likely did  _ not _ appreciate the view.

        “Let me shower first. I’ll meet you in your room.”

        “In my room. Right.” She nodded to herself. “I’ll just… go wait there.” It was clear she had no idea how to process whatever emotions she was enduring. It made it unbearably hard to not push the issue further. He so loved to poke and prod her past her comfort zone. But for tonight, perhaps it was best they became reacquainted without the unnecessary vexation from his end. After all, he would need to retain her good graces if he wanted to persuade her.


	25. Wool and Ice

        Beauty is the in the eye of the beholder, or so they say. Yet why then do they make outcasts of those they deem unworthy? They scheme and they lie and they sneer with ugly faces in supposed secret at those they think less alluring than themselves. The quicklings can’t even keep their opinions solidified. They change like the ebb and flow of the tide from one century to the next, often times faster. 

        Can they not see that they have turned themselves rotten, that the stench they retch upon is none other than their own? How many skins must they wear until they are satisfied? How many cruel jokes must they whisper until they feel justified? In the end, they only hurt themselves - their self-image a horrid lie to mask the decrepit creature that dwells beneath. Their love for each other, for beauty, is only skin deep. It is lust and greed, pride and sloth - shallow feelings for shallow hearts

        I am glad that they cannot see me. Their words cannot pick at my scabs, their malice only infuriate me rather than spur me on to acts of violence. If I had a chance, if they were not so innocent, if the blood I spilled would effectively teach the lesson - I would free the subjugated. But it would not. It is already too ingrained into them to hate. To differentiate is to un-equalize in their eyes. So I have remained silent, a passive observer. I know the truth of their existence. Their loathing will be their demise.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

       I made a complete fool of myself tonight before the only person I did not want to offend. Loki did not suffer fools lightly, nor did he enjoy the company of brainless shallow shrews. At the moment, I felt like the worst of both. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed the surprise. It was just… unexpected, which I suppose surprises should be. Even now, as I tried to preoccupy myself with one of the book’s Okoye had sent up to me, I couldn’t help but try and compare his abdomen to others. Not in a lewd way, like Jane often snickered about quietly when I made some comment that evidently was some form of an innuendo. Humans had far too many sexual references, and I tended to skip over those fragments of dim light. They held little meaning to me then and now.

        Jane would have probably called me odd, or weird for doing a comparison for such a thing. ‘A stomach is a stomach’, she would say, or something along those lines. She already found it weird that I often pointed out minute similarities or dissimilarities between seemingly random objects. But I couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that Steve’s muscles bulged under his shirt as if he was going to burst in a spray of crimson each time he came by to say hello after his afternoon session.

       My nose wrinkled at the memory. He smelled of stale sweat and chaffed skin. At least when Thor came by he washed, though only because Jane scolded him for not doing so in the first place. Loki, however, sometimes had a different problem. I swore he doused himself in perfume. But, at the very least it was better than most of the visitors I got. Speaking of Loki, his abdomen did  _ not _ ripple egregiously. By all standards it seemed normal. His forearms weren’t swollen and cumbersome, his chest didn’t look like it would tear itself in half if he stretched his shoulders back. I knew that this meant he was seen as less attractive than Thor (Steve might be taking it too far), but I didn’t understand why. Muscles were… well, muscles. Why did an overgrowth of them mean beauty? 

        I shook my head, amazed at myself for even pondering such a subject while he rest of me was disgusted with myself for even dwelling on the subject. I scowled at myself, batting around my conscience like one of Shuri’s pinballs. Such preoccupations had no place in my mind.

        “Little Lamb?” He called before he knocked, startling me out of my musings. He never called me ‘little’ to my face anymore unless he was anxious about something.

        “Come in.” I returned. Not that it mattered - he already peeked open the door. My furtive eyes did their best to hide their intentions as I glanced at him momentarily from over the pages of my book, but it did not stop my lips from tugging downward of their own accord. He was wearing a shirt again. I wasn’t sure what I expected. Of course he was wearing a shirt. Why wouldn’t he be? 

        “Something the matter?” He inquired with a dubious eyebrow as I shook my head fervently.

        “Oh no. Just… a thought.” I felt the heat rise again in my cheeks and I barely had time to blow it out. “What did you need to talk to me about?” I closed the book I had been reading with a snap and sat up on the bed. 

        He approached with care, his movements controlled and graceful. This was something of import. Something he meant to sway me on. I tilted my head quizzically, waiting for his mouth to find the words he wanted.

        “You know that you cannot go back to the Helicarrier. You cannot go back to Fury.” He began quietly.

        “I can if I wish to.” I reminded him.

        “No. I won’t let you.” He dictated sternly. “He’ll hurt you. And he will try to keep me from protecting you. I won’t allow it.”

        My eyes widened. I wasn’t sure what to think. On the one hand, he was ordering me about like I was his servant. As if I would simply obey him because he demanded it, the nerve of him. On the other, he was defensive and nearing possessive. I was dear to him, perhaps even to the part of being critical. Part of me was highly offended and the other was… I wasn’t sure. Elated? Nervous? It was difficult to tell. Many wished to stake their claim upon me, but few were willing to protect me.

        “I am my own person, Loki. But -” I cut off his interjection with two soft fingers as I leaned forward, a trick I learned from Jane. “-you are right. I cannot return. Nor can you. He will hurt you. Shackle you. If not as a punishment, then as a way to control me.” I did not wish for any leash to remain around my already bruised neck.

        “I should have stolen you away from him long ago.” He softly admitted.

        “It is better this way, I think.”

        “How?” He demanded to know. 

        “You have healed in the time that I have known you. You have grown. I am not the only one who has seen it.”

        “And that makes the conditions in which you were kept somehow okay?”

        “No. Perhaps not.” I agreed reluctantly. “But I’d much rather see you blossom into grandeur that even you couldn’t imagine, than selfishly attain a few more months of luxury for myself. Besides, you made my time there bearable.”

       “And Jane.”

       “And Jane.” I agreed. “As well as the others.”

       “Well, it’s a good thing that you like them as well.” He sighed. “The Avengers, as they call themselves, are parting from S.H.I.E.L.D.. T’Challa has arranged for them to take you with them.”

       “I am not joining some fledgling organization of supposed heroes who can hardly make heads or tails of -”

       “Darling.” The word alone was enough to silence me. It was worse than ‘Little Lamb’. His eyes bearing down upon me almost made me forget how to breath altogether. I hated it when he became this serious. His eyes grew hard and sparkled brilliantly. “You don’t have to join them. It’s not membership that they’re interested in. They’re only doing this to protect you.”

       “And what about you?” I managed past my constricting trachea. “You aren’t a part of the Avengers either.” I wasn’t sure why he was important. But something begged for me to keep him at my side. Not out of selfish adoration, but out of the base need of survival. What had I done that required him? I could not remember.

       “I will be aiding them.” He slowly nodded. “I will not stand by and let them take you only to inflict greater pain upon you. Besides. Evidently Stark has been the one paying me this entire time. Gods do not enjoy being indebted to those beneath them.” I chuckled at this griping, both serious and teasing at the same time. He was learning to appreciate the efforts of others it seemed. Or trying to, anyways. It was something I needed to work on as well.

      “If you will be there, I will go.” I acquiesced in a murmur. Not completely out of following my subconscious, for I would miss his company otherwise. His earnest expression broke into a smile as the arm he was not leaning on raised. I blinked once, twice, as he tucked in a strand of hair that was splayed loose over my shoulder behind my ear. He had never done that before. Neither had Jane. I grinned at my lap, too much of a fool to hide my joy. It was a lovely feeling.

      “Come now, Lamb. There is no reason to hide your face around me.”

      “You are such a flirt.” I scolded him, playfully shoving the arm that acted as his foundation.

      “Only for you.” I snorted, a sound I picked up recently from uncivilized Shuri. “It’s true!” He gripped his heart in mock agony at my insinuation.

      “Even I know better.” The crinkles around the edges of his eyes ceased to exist, the twinkling within the seagrass that swayed in his irises halted.

      “Lamb.” I froze at the tightness of his voice and his hand clasping my wrist. “I do not deny that I have been promiscuous in my younger days. There is no easier way to hide pain than with pleasure. But do not think that I have not changed. I am not so simple minded anymore.” He paused, trying to explain without sounding crass. “There is nothing wrong with being beautiful, nor is there anything wrong in praising it. I should warn you that I am still a god, and such insinuations, despite their lightheartedness, are grave insults.” He had told me briefly of the horrors of Asgardian culture and law. Not even amongst the gods were all deemed equal.

       “Even from me?” I frowned thoughtfully.

       “Especially from you.” He muttered with a sourness that I could not find the source of.

       “I’m… sorry.” I managed after letting his sentiment sink in and ache in my bones. “It’s just, we’re friends are we not? Is casual flirting a part of friendship?” Jane and I had teased each other on occasion, mainly to make Thor uneasy. I supposed Stark flirted, and Steve was a bit of a charming gentleman. They were friends as well.

       “We are. And it is not uncommon.” He agreed stiffly.

       “Should I be looser around the others?” He loosed a pitiful susurration and I realized there was something here that I was not understanding. Something he was not going to tell me.

       “No. Just… be you.” He smiled bittersweetly.

       “O-okay.” I shifted closer, fingers ghosting over the his spread out atop the comforter to hold himself upright. His skin was still smoother than Jane's despite his longevity. “Loki?”

       “Yes?”

       “Are we… friends?”

       “What makes you think we are not?” He countered, genuine concern pulling his brow down.

       “It’s just that… I don’t know.” I fished for the right words to explain to him what I was feeling. “It’s different. Between us, I mean.”

       “How so?” His features morphed into unreadable perfection once more. I hated it when he did that.

       “I trust you. It doesn’t mean I don’t trust the others, it’s just… different with you. I am friends with Jane. I am friends with Thor. And Steve. Even Stark. But you?” I needed him for some unspoken reason, further than the companionship he offered. 

       “There are varying degrees of friendship.” He explained tenuously.

       “Are we best of friends then?” In truth, I wasn’t even sure what friendship entailed. For all I knew, perhaps the others were merely acquaintances and Loki was my only friend. I wasn't sure. Sometimes I wished I could gauge emotions without trespassing mental privacy. All I knew was that my subconscious needed him, and that set him apart from the rest.

       “I’d wager even more.” He teased with a smile. But there was a truth to his statement. He was closer to me than anyone ever had been. My father had access to my mind, my internal turmoil that I suffocated in the depths of my consciousness. Even he did not know me. My father knew my rage; he knew my agony; he knew my conviction. But father never knew my heart. He couldn’t understand it. But Loki did. 

       The Wolf had only caught glimpses of the madness hidden away, the all consuming fire that I stoked beneath the guise of a Lamb. He respected that fury, knowing that though I did not intend harm towards him I held no qualms about nipping him in return. Natasha had learned this through many conversations that she lost control of. Fury no doubt suspected it, feared it. Loki embraced it. He toyed with it when it bubbled up, daring me to either control it or lose myself. He had a confidence in me that I dared not to have in myself. I found that I relied on him more than myself for growth since my awakening. 

       “Ah.” I agreed softly with a smile. I wasn’t sure what we were to be honest. But I don’t think that unanswered question bothered us much. At the very least, it did not bother me. We were happy. It was something neither of us expected to obtain, and we knew better than to reach for more. “Do you know where we will be going?” I questioned when the silence grew stretched and my ears longed for his sweet cadence again. It was easy on the ears compared to Shuri’s vibrant coarseness or T’Challa’s continued formality.

       “No.” He confessed with a twinge of regret. “I only learned of this scheme recently.”

       “So that was what T’Challa was hiding from me.” I mused idly. He had been away as of late. Preoccupied with court matters, he told me. Wakanda’s transition was progressing smoothly, but the world’s was not. It was only a half truth, however. Did the cat think I did not know better? I was friends with the Wolf with a forked tongue after all. “And why Shuri is so insistent on personal details.”

        “Personal details?” Loki immediately questioned.

        “Color preferences. Decoration schemes. Climates I enjoyed. I don’t think she understands that I would appreciate a mud hut.”

        “I don’t think you understand you are well above a mud hut.” He grumbled in return. “But what did you tell her?”

        “We learned that I prefer earthen tones. Neons are too gaudy and pastels are muted. Metallics are cold.”

        “So browns and greens?” Of course he’d state the obvious. But there was more than that in the natural world.

        “And the lavender of lilacs, the crimson of roses. The deep blue of the ocean, and the orange of the sunset.” I lectured him lightly.

        “So you didn’t actually reduce the selection by much.” 

        “No, I suppose not.” I chuckled faintly. “It’s been half a year and everything still feels new.” I whispered. “I don’t even know what snow is like.” 

        “Cold. It’s very cold.” I rolled my eyes at him.

        “Yes, thank you. I can imagine it now.” He snickered at my dry retort. “I wonder where it will be.” I could not help my curiosity.

        “It will be in a larger city.”

        “Oh?” That took me by surprise. They had lost me so easily in Wakanda without me putting any significant effort into my escape. Were they so willing to place me in a sea of people when I had no reservations about letting my form drown amidst them, should the need arise?

        “Fury won’t hound you there. Or at least, not as much.”

        “He wouldn’t risk his reputation, or the reputation of his agency, on collateral damage. If anything, he is hoping for a blunder from us. If we become the villains to the rest of the world, close proximity to a major hub could become a vulnerability.”

        “It is worth the risk.” He assured me gravely, but I remained unconvinced. “Fury will send everything within his power should we try and hide you away. We can’t protect you from that.” A heavy weight shoved down at my shoulders. He didn’t understand. He still thought me a Lamb.

        “But I can.”

        “Lamb -”

        “I told you to stop calling me that.” I cut in cruelly, reminding him of the last argument we had that sent me away from his presence. I wasn’t sure why it was imperative that he not become deluded by my docile nature, but it was critical to my subconscious. I might as well dance along considering it was the only tune I had at the moment.

        “You will always be a Lamb to me.”

        “You have wool over your eyes.” He tsked in irritation, pulling away from me slightly. “I am no Lamb. I never was.”

        “But you are.” He seethed. “How can you  _ know _ so much and still remain so naive?”

        “I can know, but that doesn’t not mean I understand. There is much I do not understand, yes. But that does not make me any less dangerous. It does not diminish my power, nor limit my reach. Perhaps it makes me even more of a threat. I cannot tell. I do not understand what I feel for you or the others in entirety, but I do know I will protect the lot you - regardless of what accusations they throw at you. Is that not warning enough? That I am merely clothed in wool, not made of it?”

        “No.” He scowled stubbornly. At the very least he did not leave. Not just yet. “Why are you so insistent on trying to frighten us off?”

        “I’m not. I’m trying to achieve the opposite, in fact. I don’t want the shock of my true nature to revile you in such a way that you can no longer stand the thought of me. You will see it, one day. I don’t want to lose any of you.” I disclosed my sentimentality quietly. 

        “You won’t.” He promised. But promises built upon half-truths were already broken to begin with.

        “I will.”

        “And what of me?” He snapped suddenly, the anger I only guessed at beneath the surface now hovering between us. Somewhere along the line I had struck a painful chord it seemed. The air in the room turned cold, his irises bleeding red until they shone like rubies, the whites stained by their brilliance. With the whisper of unspoken magic, his form shimmered until his pearly ivory skin bruised to the blue of a summer sky. “Do you see me now, for the monster I am? Do you fear me? Do you hate me?” So this was what he hid beneath the gossamer. This was his greatest secret, his vulnerability that lead him into madness.

        “No.” I breathed with a ghost of a smile, fingertips caressing his sharp cheekbones as he froze at the word. He was  _ cold _ . Was that what he had meant earlier? Did he feel like snow? “You are still Loki.” I explained as I continued to marvel at the pricking of my nerves.

       “I am a frost giant, of Jotunheim.” He spat, trembling with rage and unbridled hatred. I remember what he told me, of the Asgardians’ loathing for the race. Ah, so that was why he was so reluctant about telling me of the stories of his youth where he and Thor would make their foolish plans to end the gelid race of the Frost Giants. It was why a part of him still feared Thor and the rest of his family. He was the very monster his family trained him to hate. But surely by now he understood that the form did not dictate the soul. Or perhaps… perhaps that was what he was trying to impart onto me.

       “It explains your stature and the chill in the air.” I jested, but it only soured him further.

       “You should not touch me.” He shifted away, agitated by my continued casualness.

       “Why?” I inched towards him uncaring. I wanted to know the chill of winter so unnatural cold it would kill you in a heartbeat. No one else could dare experience it and live. It would be a pity for such a thing to go unfelt.

       “Because I am  _ cold _ . I cannot control how chilling my touch is when I am not spellbound. You will get frostbite, or worse.”

       “I will get neither.” I insisted, running my hand along his bare arm. He hissed, grabbing the offending wrist and shoving the palm attached towards my gaze. “See?” I offered the unblemished arm to him slowly. He glanced at it from the corner of his eye before he deigned to take any interest in it. It did burn, the nerves unsure of how to process the extreme dip in temperature - how to heal themselves in time to prevent the flash freeze in their myelin sheaths. But my skin was not so frail.

        “H-how?”

        “I am not a Lamb. Not completely. I can protect myself if the need arises. As I will protect you. All of you.” I shivered as he traced the wrinkles engraved into my palms, daring to follow the pulsing veins up my forearm. Even now his touch felt like fire rather than ice. Perhaps that was what it felt like to be hypothermic, your nerves betraying you in their final moments. Many excerpts I read often described such a phenomenon, and, while I could not get hypothermic, perhaps this was an acceptable sensation to relate it to.

        “You do not fear my appearance?”

        “You of all people should know that appearances are malleable. Your heart and soul are not so fickle. Time may have twisted you, fate may have dealt you an unfair hand - but all that has done is confused your mind and weakened your conviction. At your core you have always been a Wolf, not a monster.”

        “Are they not one and the same?” He scoffed, but his temper was ebbing with each soothing word that I echoed into his mind.

        “Only to those who do not understand them. Wolves do not kill unnecessarily. They do not head into a hunt without thought of how to take down their prey. They are efficient and merciless, but only because hesitation increases the risk for those they hunt with. They are loyal and protective of their pack, of their family. They are kind and nurturing to their young. Vigilant and wise. Wolves are much more than a set of canines and claws wrapped in fur. As are you.” As were the Jotuns, no doubt. But I knew better than to berate him on that.

        His form shuddered, lips quivering as he slid his eyes shut to hide from the world. But he could not run from me. I felt his shame, the guilt he bore in his mind for showing me his hideous form in an outburst. He thought himself better than this. He thought himself ready, with more self-control. He did not understand that even ten thousand years of practice, of meditation, would never truly cease the sway of his emotions. Control was not garnered from a stricter leash like many thought, but by trust and understanding.

        Wordlessly I enveloped him, like Jane had taught me, just as he had been so swift to do so earlier when we first reunited. It was a frigid embrace, for his form exuded a frost that made me stiffen despite drawing upon the Void to protect my fragile flesh, but I found it far less awkward than before.

        “Ah, sorry.” He muttered, the warmth seeping back into the room as he veiled his visage once more. “Fuck.” He rarely cursed with a lack of eloquence, and I felt the sting of his annoyance as I left him to his privacy now that his sanity had returned. “I hate it when I cry in that form. It freezes my eyes shut.” 

        “Here.” I brushed over his eyelids with a thumb, melting away the ice that had formed between the lashes.

        “Thank you.” He whispered, ivory lids revealing the dazzling sea green once more. He lowered his head, inhaling sharply the comforts of lavender and honey in the crook of my neck. “Thank you.”

         It only dawned on me much later that night whilst buried in the pages of Okoye's book that he had been thanking me not for my aid in curbing the beast within him or my aid in freeing his lashes, but something else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double upload because I forgot my laptop when I left this weekend. Woops.


	26. The Growl of a Lamb

        I do not understand the quicklings grab for power. Power for the sake of power is worthless, meaningless. Once obtained, they flaunt it about as if it somehow gives their life, their country, their empire, more meaning. It does not. It only hastens their fall, the only title they claim one of tyrant and a conqueror. What good is power if not used to attain something? Not the physical and the mundane, that the quicklings often squabble about. I understand the survival is necessary, and therefore food and land and economic standing are also critical - but they already have plenty of these things. Yet still they want more.

 

        More food, more land, more money. More power.

 

        Their greed blinds them and their power keeps them from life. They exist, never knowing joy. They die never having lived. Power is only there to enforce happiness. It is there to protect and the watch over those who are powerless. It is a sword, but not a fencer’s thin edge meant to almost constantly be on the aggressive. It is the executioner’s great sword, a threat to all who venture too close on the grounds of intending harm. It is also a last resort. Power is meant to not to attain _more_ , but to keep safe what is already precious. The quicklings cannot see that, do not understand that.

 

        They have fallen into the same trap my mother’s ancestors succumbed to.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

        Time passed swiftly with him at my side. The few days that we remained in the Wakandan palace felt like a blur. We were summoned, tugged at, to and fro. Shuri needed my input to finalize a location, as well as suitable secondary sites. I worked with her when she could spare the time, leaving her bits and shards that I knew she would piece together when she got a moment to breath. There were many secrets still locked away in the vibranium that they built upon. Of all the people to find them let it be her, I prayed.

        Not because I wished her strife or the horror of the decisions that would come at her discoveries. There was no avoiding that. But I knew, I trusted, that she would make the right choice. Her heart was pure, just like her older brother’s. Perhaps pure was the wrong word to use. Good. Kind. Those were apt descriptions. Shuri was prone to boisterous displays of profanity and other lewd gestures. Loki found it both amusing and revolting. He could hardly understand how she could be allowed to act in such a manner given she was a member of the royal family.

        Aside from aiding her in the lab, Loki and I needed to assist in formulating how to get the rest of the Avengers off the Helicarrier. Since Loki’s departure, Fury had locked it tight. If T’Challa had not pinned it down, Fury would have left soon after Loki’s departure. Fury did not want to risk losing the rest of his investments. Not even T’Challa was allowed aboard now to continue negotiations. Fury’s tightening of the noose around their necks only solidified their resolve in being rid of him. He was paranoid and power hungry, no longer the pinnacle of fiery determination and conviction that they aspired to be. Still, despite the growing resentment towards him from within S.H.I.E.L.D itself, get away dinner plans were a bit harder to conceive.

       No one wanted to be the first to strike in this pit match. It gave the other the advantage when it came to outside aid. Onlookers always pitied the one that stumbled first, regardless of who instigated the fight. The world wouldn’t care that neither of the conflicting parties were actually victims in the situation. It also meant I could not force Fury’s hand. To do so would be to further villainize myself.

       I had done nothing wrong, I reiterated time and time again. But I knew it was of little consequence. Taking the Void Stones in the first place was what had started this whole ordeal. Their continued absence and my refusal to meet Fury’s demands only fueled suspicions. He didn’t care that they weren’t his to use. He didn’t care that they weren’t his to protect. Somehow, their existence upon his planet granted him jurisdiction over them in his mind.

       But that was his weakness, wasn’t it? He was so focused on the Stones that he cared for little else. T’Challa and Loki seemed dubious about my proposal, but given little else to work with, they agreed to at least give it an attempt.

       Loki would do what he did best: cause duplicitous chaos. While he did not enjoy the prospect of walking into the hyena’s den, he did anticipate the thrill of tricking one he had despised since his arrival on Earth. His part of the mission was simple. He would return to the Helicarrier under the guise of escaping T’Challa’s clutches, with him would be their sorely sought after Tesseract.

       T’Challa was nervous sending him in with such a thing, more so when I pulled it from thin air amidst a heated discussion. I had not lied when I told him I destroyed them, but he did not ask if I could reform them. Even Loki questioned my unwavering faith in him. He had set out to obtain the Stones originally, and here I was offering him one without any form of countermeasure. He could run off with it, return to Thanos’ side. He could, I affirmed. But he wouldn’t. Besides, one Stone was hardly the four he had his eyes upon. And if he decided to abscond with it, I would simply will it from existence again. I was not a powerless as he wished I was.

       Reluctantly, he agreed to this addition as did T’Challa. He would enter the lair to make peace. He would tell them of all the marvels I had willingly showed the Wakandans, that I had given T’Challa the Stones in secret. I was their ally from the beginning. It would make Fury livid. And livid humans did not make rational decisions. All it would take was a few choice suggestions from Loki, and Fury would send out the Avengers on a mission of vengeance and recovery.

       And so we waited. I observed from the Void, snuggled in the comforts of my blankets, the shadows they cast were not unlike the walls of my pod, only softer. But even there, amidst the warmth and the softness I could find no peace. Loki was gone again, heading straight into danger. For me. It gnawed at me, even as I watched his every move from within his coat pocket.

       I listened to him snarkily deal with the guards, despite their rough treatment. I cringed as he dared to lash out at Fury for his unwillingness to aid him. How dare he leave a prince of Asgard to rot away! Not that it mattered, he griped stiffly. He was here to seek vengeance, as was his right. He no longer cared about the Stones, only his pride. The God of Mischief was not so easily fooled. Fury seemed skeptical, but folded once Loki’s payment was revealed.

        Once Fury attained the Stone, it was hard to get an exact grasp on Loki’s form. From a distance it was blurred and blended with the others he walked amongst. But even from here I could sense the feral grin of his excitement barely masked under a well practiced mask. He enjoyed this: toppling dictators and sowing discord. He loved making his enemies dance for him unwittingly. It was an uncanny and oftentimes frowned upon skill despite its usefulness. Too many feared it, feared him, turning against them.

        The others were displeased and shocked to see him. Their thoughts screamed in rage at his traitorous actions, only to calm in confusion at his knowing smile he only dared to show with his back to the camera. He informed them of the ruse, of the parts they needed to play. They would need to buy into Fury’s criminalization of Wakanda and myself. They needed to hate me. They needed to hunt me once more.

        Some of them hesitated. Selvig and Jane in particular were horrible liars, and Jane was known to be fond of me. Not only that, but they were not part of the Avengers. They were not soldiers. They were scientists. Fury would not let them walk the streets of Wakanda like the rest of them. It was not something I had thought about, but easily remedied nonetheless.

        With a flick of a thought I entered the outer reaches of the Wolf’s mind. He startled to find me there haunting the perimeter, but was wise enough to retain his composure.

 _Tell them to begin work on the Tesseract. Banner too, if he does not wish to fight._ I instructed across the miles between us.

_Where are you?_

_In my room_. I alaid his obvious fears.

_You can speak to me from that far away?_

_Yes. Further if I wished. But ask your questions later._ I shushed him and left swiftly at the surge of excitement and curiosity bubbling up from within him.

       He relayed the information without hesitation, the others dubiously nodding their agreement. They knew not of how I had just contacted him, nor what I was planning with the Tesseract, but for now they trusted me more than they trusted Fury. Jane, Selvig, and Banner would remain to inspect the Tesseract. Banner did not wish to destroy one of the few truly nonviolent civilizations upon the Earth. If there was a chance he could refrain from releasing the beast he caged inside, he would take it.

        I loosed a sigh in relief, the Void that was tethered to my form rippling and lapping at my limbs like gentle waves. For once a plan was going, well, as planned. It did not make me loosen my vigil upon the Wolf, for I knew better than to tempt fate with blind faith. Humans tended to be unpredictable, and I had just woken the hornet’s nest. I was unsure if Fury would target me specifically or attempt to battle Wakanda directly. Either would be of little consequence as soon as the Avenger’s were out from under his grasp.

        For now there was not much to do besides watch Loki live his life vicariously. I tried my best not to pry into his thoughts, but there were times when his emotions flared vividly despite his outward facade. He chuckled at jests he thought ill-humored and misspoken, knowing that alliances made or broke the backs of those far stronger than him. Sometimes, though, he genuinely laughed. Mainly towards Thor’s nips, the tales of their youth.

        Loki didn’t like speaking much about his childhood. Nor did he like talking about his family. In fact, Loki didn’t like vocalizing much at all about himself. Not in a serious mood in any case. He jabbered constantly and craved attention, but only when it did not cross the fine line of privacy he had constructed - though that line meant little I supposed when he lost control. I had seen very little of this side of him in our time together. His relationship with Thor was not healed fully when I had left. When last I heard them speak with one another it was neither lighthearted nor fond.

        I remained amazed when he sat down in what I assumed to be a cafeteria with the others. I had passed it, I think, on my grand escape from the Helicarrier. It didn’t catch my attention at the time, given that I was neither thinking straight nor in the mood for a bite to eat. I had never eaten with so many people around. The most I ever had was when Jane, Selvig, and Loki were in the room together while I nibbled on some chewy bars that Jane had snuck me some three months back. The din was obnoxious. How could he hear Stark through the constant chatter in the background?

        For a moment I doubted. I did not relish the bustling streets of Wakanda as the others did. Though they provided ample opportunities to avoid prying eyes, the crowds were a mass of confusion and chaos. To think that soon I would be heading somewhere with an even denser population was daunting, a city were onlookers were not always so kind and passerby’s judged constantly. But I could not let myself dawdle in my insecurities, I scolded myself.

        How could I handle the multiverse if I could not handle the walkways of a single city, perched upon a primitive planet? Besides, I reassured myself, I had little to fear in actuality. No doubt the Avengers would indoctrinate me to their human ways and shield me from the worst of their society should the need arise. And, if all else failed, I had myself. There was no greater strength than that which dwelt within.

        T’Challa worked with me when he could to bring me peace of mind upon the subject. I could not wield the Void if I feared it - that mistrust had been inscribed into my being since the day I was born. It was difficult, returning to my past. So much was misshapen and weaved in treachery, hidden from my sight for I had long since whelved it to a place I never dreamt of pulling it out of. I blamed my father for the majority of the horror that was birthed in consequence, but the truth woven in the Void revealed there was no singular culprit.

         I could blame the guard who secreted the children aboard. Noble and stubborn, she knew the peril she was encouraging to bring about. It was not her place to question the orders of her betters, so in light of that she didn’t question at all. Without the children, those aboard the ship would have lived in peace and harmony unending. Age and time would not fetter them in the Void. They would be free to start anew upon exiting the nether realm. But tender hearts are prone to rash decisions, and so her kindness fell an empire.

        I could blame the crew for giving into their misguided terror and lashing out at the burgeoning young mediums. It was an age old proverb among the Orokin that fear of the unknown was the greatest of dangers. And yet, they were foolish enough forgo the pursuit of knowledge and reason. They knew not what they were, and the Void, my father, was only protecting them, a difficult sentiment to swallow. It could not outright kill them, for that was not its nature. The Void did not deal in simple deaths. Instead, it broke them - seeking vengeance for their wrongdoings in the bodies they so loved. With their punishment complete, they were allowed to return to their lives albeit in mutated, grotesque bodies.

        I could blame the mediums themselves. They warred amongst themselves despite their urgent need to survive. Some went mad from the isolation and the monstrosities that now acted as their guides and protectors. Others looked at those few adults remaining for comfort and direction. Still others deemed themselves superior, the natural evolution of the Orokin. A select few dared to speak reason and peace, but those words fell upon deaf ears. There was no compromise to be found. And though my father had led to the downfall of their peers, it was the mediums themselves that enacted malicious sadism beyond account.

        I could blame my mother. For she could not find it in her heart to end the life growing within her, nor could she face the gruesome visages of those she once knew. It was for her, the self-proclaimed All-Mother, that Thanos and those he deemed worthy rose up and slaughtered the meek and the unsuspecting Voided. Those that survived, that the Void so graciously protected, were turned to living metal. They were the first prototype Frames. Eternally bound in service to the Void, they would kill no innocent. But innocence is an abstract concept.

        At that time, Thanos had not spilled blood personally. Mother had not either. Instigation meant little to the Void. Only action and reaction counted in its court. And so they became slaves and guardians to those that once persecuted them. It was the Void’s way of placating both sides. Those that thought themselves superior were granted unquestioning servants, and those that were frightened at the prospect of death, only longing for the harmony of true peace, were granted nigh eternal life with the prospect of little to no conflict.

        It is one of the many reasons why I blamed my father. He could not see the cruelty in that sentence. He had existed for all of time, but he had never lived. He was a consciousness never made to awaken, yet awaken he did. Pure energy, worth all the souls that would ever pass, could never, should never, be a soul in itself. And yet, fate decreed it come to be. He existed for countless eternities, never holding a will to live or understand life. Not until my birth at the wishes of my rapacious mother. It was a wonder Thanos had forgiven her for the blatant disregard of his stature once again.

        Ah... Thanos: a name I loved and adored greater than anything in this world. I would have killed for him, even if it meant the ire of my father. I didn’t understand at the time. I still don’t understand now. After mother vanished he was all I had left that felt real. I couldn’t hold father’s hand. I couldn’t carry books for father, or fix a malfunctioning aether pump for father. But I could for my big brother.

        After I grew, long after the Children’s War, I could only cling to my brother’s side. I looked up to him, loved him. I devoted my life to him. That was what he wanted. It was what mother never could bring herself to do. You see, mother never loved Thanos. Not like she adored her first born, the child of her lover not her husband.

        Thanos always resented that sentiment. Men were superior in the hierarchy of the Orokin. It was a cultural slap to have his sister, sired not from a noble but a servant, be doted upon. But Thanos was cunning. He did not lash out or speak ill of family. He bid his time, knowing that his sister’s actions would bring the Void down upon her. And when the deed was done, when mother only had him left, he found that it could not make up for the love she had lost and denied him. He would always be second in her eyes. Upon my birth he expected no doubt to seen as the rightful heir to her unconditional affection. And though, yes, she loved him in her own way, she did not love him as her own.

         A part of me whispered darkly when mother vanished that it was his doing. I ignored the insanity, clinging to the illusion of my brother’s care. But I had seen the truth now. It was fitting that she fall at his hands for the cruelty she bestowed uncaringly upon him. He had mother’s eyes, the eyes he swore sparkled brighter than the stars I had never seen at the time. She hadn’t even died aboard the ship, had she? For when last I saw him, he bore his own. What happened in the space in between our last, tenuous meeting? I thought he had died along with so many others. That was what they told me.

         He had changed. Physically more than emotionally. He had always been cold and standoffish, but steady and sure - akin to the rocky structure he had now become. There were hints to fractured mind, just as Loki had sharp edges he hid as best he could. But he loved me. Me, the Void’s daughter. He didn’t fear me like the others did. He didn’t care that my sire was the one that had trapped them there. I was his sister. I was his family, and he was mine.

         There were times when it was difficult. He could not favor me outright in front of the others. I was a hostage, not a sister, to them. I was the monster that walked amongst their midst. It was trying to act the part, to bear his leash to comfort the rest of the sheep. I remained silent when instructed, held the Voided at bay when ordered. I erased the minds of mediums who had drawn too close to the Void. I did my best to show them that I was one of them, but it did little to ease their concern. Only Thanos understood me at the time.

         I believed that quiet obedience would grant me that which I desired most: a return sentiment of their affections and goodwill. It wasn’t much too ask for, or so I thought at the time. But how did someone love that which was birthed by terror itself? How could they come to understand the person, the soul, that dwelt in the body of a child so young it could barely form words? It was wrong for me to expect such kindness in return, even from those who had grown in the dark with me.

         I knew now that the blame laid upon me, regardless of my age or understanding at the time. I ignored my blazing heart, too timid in body and mind to dare to back it’s determination. I let them rot in the Void until Thanos thought it time to depart. I let Thanos dictate my actions. I let Thanos sway my mind. It didn’t matter how cunning or caring he was. He taught me his ways. I understood his deeds and what they meant. I knew his goal. It was bordering madness. It was  _I_ who deluded myself into believing his plan was salvageable. No plan was ever prepared enough to face the Void.

         I remained in the dark, buried long underground despite the cries of those trapped above me. I listened and whispered sweet nothings, but that was all they were. Nothing. I did not act to save them. I did not embrace them as my own. I merely watched them suffer as they begged for mercy. I did not falter in my apathy even when it came for my own body to lay upon their examination table. It was only when they directed their pleas to something finite and defined that I cautiously attempted to help. But it was too little too late.

        I was naive and unsure, bringing folly to the few that could truly understand me with the ineptitude of my indecision. I had followed, like a sheep, my whole life. I looked up to my shepherd, my brother, even if I knew in my heart he would might lead all of us to the slaughterhouse one day. Perhaps that was why Loki insisted I was still a lamb. I had the teeth and claws of a wolf, but refused to use them. My hide was as soft as wool, my howling as shrill as the bleating of a newborn lamb.

        It felt as if history was beginning to repeat itself. This growing turmoil was a prelude to war. It would not be a war fought between bloody trenches or for the ground they dared to tread upon. It would be a war fought in the shadows, with poisoned daggers of words and webs of intricately laid traps, escalating to tension and the threat of physical violence. Where it ended, be it in death or any realm of existence at all, I could not say.

        And they had all forgotten who had instigated it. But I didn’t. I knew his calculating ways. I would not let Thanos lead to the demise of yet another civilization, another race, another world. Already I had much at stake here, connected by the little things that had brought me joy. It was Shuri’s unbridled enthusiasm; T’Challa’s wisdom; Thor’s honor; Steve’s good-natured comradery; Stark’s incessant banter; Jane’s bravery and kindness; Loki’s laughter. I would not stand by this time and quietly observe their downfall. I would not shoulder the blame this time for my indolence.

        The time for me to shed the guise of a lamb was close, and it filled me with anxious exhilaration. I was the Void. I was sovereign in all of existence, across all of space and time. I would not falter in my conviction now, nor allow myself to be plagued by doubt. Not in matters that concerned the livelihood of my new makeshift family. I was not my father, unable to bring himself to create death when he needed to most.

        I was a wolf, and I would bare my teeth and bloody my claws if it meant protecting that which was precious to me.


	27. Sting of The Hornet

        What does it mean to be Voided? I have often questioned and re-quesitioned that idea in the blank spaces of peace that sometimes occur. The obvious is answer is to be a monster, to be heartless. But that is not entirely true I find the more I dwell upon it. 

        The original Voided were products of the Orokin, a merging of organic technology and endless Void energy. Sometimes, the melding went wrong. The power too great, the will too weak. That is when perfection shattered, leaving something hollow and Voided. In truth, the first Voided, the ones the Orokin made and not the Void, were willess, soulless beings - warrior slaves and guard dogs who were hidden behind armor as to not offend their new masters. 

        These gave rise to those who would not be controlled, whose technocytes ran rampant and took over with the inescapable urge to reproduce and consume. These too, however, were slaves to a great hive mind. Then, eventually, came those Voided the Void manage to mold on its own, having learned the cruel ways of the Orokin and adopted them for its own once the Orokin were at the Void's mercy. But even then, after having been set ‘free’ after their punishment, they were still at the mercy of the Void. 

        And so, I have come to a new conclusion. Being Voided is not to be a monster. Not at first. It is to be a slave for eternity at the whims of a monster, which no chance of escape. Everyone eventually cracks under this despairing weight, no one can fight for eternity. And so, they embrace the monstrosity and become it themselves, believing their darkness the one true light. And once there is no light, there is no darkness, no will. They are not monsters at the end. They are not slaves. They are bodies of Nothing, whose goal whittles down to nothing more than the instinct to turn everything else around it into Nothing as well.

 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

        It had taken three days for Fury to reach a decision. Fury teetered on the edge of reason and madness, knowing that something was afoot the moment he had returned to the Helicarrier. The God of Mischief rarely made permanent allies out of enemies. It made it all the sweeter when Fury gave approval for the Avengers to enact vengeance. He could hardly contain the excitement to the bounce in his gait he strutted down the ramp to begin his “reconnaissance”.

        He floated adrift in the crowd of early morning Wakanda, the heat rising but thankfully not overbearing just yet. His eyes remained restless, contrasting his leisurely stride as he noticed several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents tailing him. With a flick of his wrist up to inspect the time of day upon a watch he failed to wear, he continued on his way with a smirk. Within moments several Wakandan guards approached his stalkers and began questioning their intent within the market. 

        They were no doubt irked, but he doubted they suspected anything. Wakanda did not take Fury’s increasing threat of aggression lightly, and the sudden allowance of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in the field was bound to create alarm for the guards. As for why they hadn’t stopped him, he doubted they troubled themselves with that thought whilst they were on the end of an angry spear.

        He continued for a good few hours, meandering ever closer to the palace - but never quite heading directly for it to arouse suspicion. Several times he came across several of the other members who were biding their time. It was nerve wracking to not know when the signal would be given - nor what signal that would even be - that Jane, Selvig, and Banner were safe. They weren’t even sure what the Lamb had planned for them or why she needed them near the Tesseract to begin with.

        Then, around noon, when the oppressive sun was at its highest, Fury’s stern voice came across their earpieces. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound, for despite Fury’s best attempts to feign his normal composure Fury was practically dripping in panic.

        “Avengers, ground teams. This is an immediate recall. I repeat, all units are to return to the Helicarrier at once.”

        “Whatever for?” Loki dared to answer.

        “She’s taken them.”

        “Who? Who has taken who?” Natasha cut in, adding her silvertongue to his.

        “It has taken the scientists. Jane, Selvig, Banner. The Tesseract. They’re gone. It activated in the lab and teleported them somewhere. It was a trap. Loki was meant to get the Tesseract somehow. He -” Fury’s rant halted abruptly. “You slimy little fucker.”

        “Ah, Fury. Words cannot express how much I have enjoyed being under your wing. After all, there are few words that accurately describe the state of nonexistence.”

        “Yep. I’m going to have actually agree with Reindeer Games on this one.” Stark butt in. “He might have been insane once, but at least he’s not actually insane now. I think. Anyways, I warned you, we all warned you, that you were going too far.”

        “That isn’t your place to assert.” Fury hissed lividly across the line.

        “Actually it is.” Steve chimed in. “I didn’t join you to create weapons of unfathomable power, from the Tesseract or from a living person.”

        “We have to protect ourselves. Earth is vulnerable. Can’t you see that?” Fury tried to explain, but his words felt hollow and splintered. “She is a danger in and off herself.”

        “We can see that.” Clint assured him. “But we can also see your burgeoning lust for control and power.”

        “We’re not looking for another regime to join, Fury.” Natasha added.

        “To be honest, we’re doing just fine on our own Fury. So we, the Avengers, are bidding you adieu. Oh, and don’t worry about the few million you owe me from supplying you with old arc reactor blueprints. I never really planned to invest in this agency to begin with.” Stark grumbled, sore still that he had lost a fraction of his wealth to this endeavor.

        “And what will happen when Thanos comes? You do remember him, don’t you? The one that Loki is here to aid in conquering Earth? The -”

        “Ahem. The one that I was forced to help, might I correct you.” Loki immediately interjected. “Though I am sure you are opposed still to the notion of mind control, I must begrudgingly admit that even he bested me. And the fact that if I didn’t I’d be dead. Oh, and that he can control the Void. That helped a wee bit too.”

        “Loki is one of us now, whether he decides to take up the title or not.” Steve calmly defended him much to his surprise. Though he did not agree with their methods and found many of their cultural habits both disquieting and odd, it was gratifying to still have somewhere to call his own. It might not have been the palace of Asgard, but it was something. If there was anything his brother had griped on and on about, it was there was always time to improve. This was a start if nothing else.

        “Yeah. Back off the the Reindeer. Wolf. Guy.” Stark, per usual, did not know when to shut his mouth.

       “Thank you, Steve.” He called out across the distance to the shield he never expected to come to his aid.

       “And me.”

       “Yes, and thank you Stark.” He rolled his eyes.

       “You’re very welcome.” His mind vividly recalled the crinkle of Stark’s grinning cheeks despite the space between them. 

       “So that’s it. You’re going to just walk out and leave.” Fury sounded like a dejected, heartbroken girlfriend they had just gathered the guts to break up with.

       “Actually, we had to plan a ruse to escape. Then leave.” Clint pointed out irritatedly. “But yes. Oh, and do try and track us. Nat and I will be waiting.”

       “Clin -”

       “Sorry guys. Didn’t want to waste anymore time.” Natasha explained as she suddenly cut the connection between the Helicarrier and them. 

       “Aw. But I was having so much fun.” Stark whined.

       “You know, I can kind of see why that’s enjoyable now Loki.” Thor finally admitted. His brother no doubt remained silent to save his pride and self-subjected honor. “And it is good that it was done without bloodshed.”

       “Yes, well it’s not over yet.” Natasha warned. “You all remember where to go?”

       “Yes ma’am.” Steve confirmed instinctively.

       “Please don’t call me ma’am.” She sighed wearily.

       “Right. Sorry, ma -. Er. Sorry.”

       “We know the way.” Thor affirmed. “I made sure to study it carefully.” At his insistence, mind you. Though he would have found it highly amusing to have Thor aimlessly roaming the Wakandan streets, lost as a puppy, this was too important for him to risk upon his brother’s terrible sense of direction.

       “Good. Then we’re going dark. Fury will no doubt regain access to these transmitters soon, and we don’t want him to track us just yet.”

       “Right. Dropping it now. See you on the other side.” Clint was the first to go, his voice fading into the gathering din of Wakanda. Soon, there was nothing left but the cacophony as the city life from multiple busy intersections bombarded him. 

        With quick motion, he tugged the earpiece hidden behind his ear out. He inspected it momentarily, for he wasn’t sure exactly how it worked. It wasn’t magic, but how then had they created something so small and yet powerful? Humans were more innovative than he originally thought. He dropped it, crushing it under his heel with his next step and scrapping the fragments along the sand. He was done with Fury. For now, at least. He would be more than willingly to dance with the hornet again should it try to sting his little Lamb. But hopefully that would not occur. For her sake, not Fury’s.

        He had felt her presence constantly hovering over him during his stay upon the Helicarrier. It was a bit unnerving to have his every move watched, even from her. Could she not trust him in this matter? But he knew the unbidden answer. He felt it with the lapping waves of her consciousness. She did trust him, more than he could have ever dared to hope. But she was worried. He was precious. It didn’t sit right with her to send him back, even when it was her idea. Especially because it was her idea.

        Her closeness had ebbed after the first night, leaving him to the privacy of his own emotions. He found it both perturbing and comforting. His mind was his own. His thoughts, his feelings were only shared when he deemed fit to do so. Even to her. But he also wanted her to remain at his side, if not as a source of comfort than as a source of knowledge. There was so much he had learned from a single night, timidly glancing at what marvels she knew of, and an unfathomable amount more he knew that waited just beyond - secrets and power that put Odin's to shame. She could not attend to both desires at once unfortunately. He shook his head freed of the conundrum, knowing that it would pass soon. Soon she would be there at his side once more, and telepathy, or whatever she called this, would no longer be required.

        His feet retraced the path to the palace through his musings and he found himself grateful for at least one of the habits he had acquired in his upbringing with Thor. While most of his rearing was a painful memory, he was beginning to pick out the small joys. Most of them involved tricking Thor or enacting revenge upon slights that had been carelessly heaped upon him. He so loved their shocked and betrayed faces. But he loved Thor’s grin after the fact more. Months, sometimes years, after the fact. But Thor learned to smile and joke about the bittersweet memories long before he had. 

       “Loki! You made it!” Thor was the first to greet him as he mounted the steps.

       “Of course I did.” He scoffed. “How many times did you get lost?”

       “I beat you here!” Thor gasped.

       “How many times?” Thor mumbled something under his breath. “What was that?”

       “Twice.” 

       “You ran.” He noted the fine sheen of sweat that was gilding his brother’s forehead.

       “You weren’t cooped up in that damn floating metal bird.” Thor muttered.

       “True.” He admitted, leading the way into the palace. To his surprise, Jane, Selvig, and Banner were already there waiting.

       “Jane!” Thor gushed, rushing to her side. “What happened? Fury was -”

       “Furious?” Banner finished for him. Jane stifled a giggle.

       “It was amazing.” Selvig was the first to actually recant their experience. “The Tesseract emitted this pulse of energy and began to glow shortly thereafter. The guards tried to enter the room, but the wave of energy solidified.”

        “Yeah. Good thing too since they opened fire shortly after.” Banner grouched. “I still almost transformed due to the panic.” Thor cast a worried gaze over to a suddenly timid Jane.

        “What happened then?”

        “Well, the room flashed white. Then the room disappeared. Then another white flash, and we were here.” Selvig’s account seemed a bit too condensed for his liking. “Well, not  _ here _ here.”

        “We kind of popped up in her room.” Jane admitted sheepishly.

        “Where is she?” He couldn’t help but ask. It was unsettling that she was not here in person. She would have normally come to greet them, or him at the very least.

        “She’s… a bit tied up at the moment.” He tilted his head in confusion at her choice of words.

        “Is something wrong?”

        “Not that I know of?” Jane was doing little allay his fears at the moment.

        “She was cocooned in a thin gossamer of light when we arrived.” Selvig barged in, not reading the situation accurately. “Rather, it was more liquid than cloth. But I think it was pure energy now that I really put my mind to it. What do you think, Banner?”

        “I think she was unsure how to unwind herself from it. She seemed a bit flustered and asked us to leave.”

        “Right.” He wasn’t sure what to make of this. She had never done something like that before, nor had this sort of phenomena occurred. No doubt the two were intertwined. He hoped everything was indeed all right. “I’m just going to go -”

        “I’m fine. I’m here.” His little Lamb announced as she ran down the steps far nimbler than he thought her capable of. “Sorry about that. Void was a little… clingy, this morning.”

        “It has moods?” Banner questioned dubiously.

        “More or less.” She remained flippant about the situation, her excitement no doubt growing. She was going to see even more of the world soon. Not through the Void, but with her own two eyes. “Where are the others?”

        “Waiting, most likely. We’re here to escort you from the palace to your carriage.” Thor explained chivalrously.

        “I’m hardly a damsel in distress, but thank you.” She replied with no small amount of acid. Thor balked immediately, understanding he had nearly stepped on a landmine. The others were not as close to her as him, a distinction made more pronounced with since her absence. “Shall we?” She returned to her normal, soft voice.

        “Of course.” He answered in Thor’s stead, offering his arm before his brother or Banner could. She took it without hesitation, but it didn’t stop her from tilting her head quizzically at him. He could only smile at her naivete in return.

        They made their way out of the back entrance of the palace, near the northern gardens that they frequented in the still mornings when they could. He would cherish those innocent moments, where she spoke softly to the stirring flowers as if they could hear her, and grinned brighter than the rising sun. Even now, in her plainly clad form, she amazed him. It was wrong for her to deny her beauty and hide it from the world. Such pleasing aestheticism was not meant to be secreted away, but shared. It was one of the few things Asgard understood.

         “I believe someone told me it was rude to ogle.” She jested softly as Thor and the others began idly chatting between themselves. It was not the first time she had caught him, but it was the first time she had dared to call him out on his prying eyes.

         “What can I say? I cannot help myself. You are practically glowing right now.” She startled, looking down as her hands fanned down her body hastily. “What?”

         “Oh, not actually glowing. Sorry.” He raised a questioning eyebrow in response. “A bit worried from earlier this morning. I thought there might be some residual… nevermind.” She cleared her throat awkwardly, turning her gaze pointedly away.

         “What did happen this morning?”

         “It’s a bit complicated to explain right now.” He snorted in annoyance. Everything about her she seemed to deem too complex for idle chat, even with him.

         “And the Tesseract?” She glanced at him coyly from the corner of her eye.

         “It has been returned to its rightful place. It is safe.” It was clear it bothered her that he even asked about the Void Stone. It was expected due to his infatuation over it, but it still stung. For once he wanted someone to be foolish enough to trust him unconditionally, regardless of how he strung others along to his whims. Could she not see that she was not like the others? He would not drop her so readily if she wished to remain his friend.

         “As long as Fury doesn’t have it, I am happy.” He assured her, her lips drawing up in a small smile.

         “Is that going to fit all of us?” Banner’s irksome snap cut through the gentle chatter abruptly. They all raised their eyes to feast upon the sight of one of Wakanda’s novelty aircraft. It was hardly larger than one of Fury’s fighters.

         “It will.” She reassured them all firmly, taking the lead with confidence and grace he wasn’t aware she was capable of summoning. “Stark and Shuri have been -” She halted instantaneously at the sound of crisp sparking coming from where they had just tread.

        They turned, the little Lamb shoving her way to the front of the petrified group as Doctor Strange took a step out from an interdimensional gateway followed by none other than a livid Fury. From behind them filed in a squad armored and carrying weapons that he had never seen before.

        “Now we’re only here to talk.” Strange immediately attempted to placate with raised hands.

        “Then why did you arm yourself to the teeth?” Thor bit, slipping Mjolnir from his side and raising it in warning.

        “Thor, please. While I don’t condone Fury’s treatment of her as of late, she  _ is _ dangerous. She needs to be watched and guarded. She needs to be understood.”

        “And we will do that.” Jane stepped forward boldly, irate that the Doctor she had dared to share her breakfast tea with had taken the other side rather than stay true to his neutrality.

        “You see what I mean?” Fury spat. “They cannot see reason. She has poisoned their minds.”

        “No, Director.” Strange hurriedly corrected. “You’ve been doing enough of that on your own. People are allowed to have differing beliefs than yours. I brought you here to talk, so that S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers might come to a fitting compromise.”

        “There is no compromise when dealing with mind washed soldiers.” Fury refused to back down upon his threat of aggression, the confusion of the past few days and pang of betrayal clearing what little judgement the aging man had left.

        “I am not here to help you in forcefully taking what you think is yours.” Strange gaped, now seeing the error in his ways.

        “That’s fine.” Fury’s face dropped, a dead calm taking him. “I don’t need your help anymore. Fire.” The clicking off of safeties was all the warning they received.

         He barely had time to conjure a weak shield around the Lamb and himself before the resonating boom of their weapons cut through the still Wakandan afternoon. He hadn’t thought of Strange betraying them in such a way. None of them had. He paled, gritting his teeth and focusing on the barrier he was projecting at the high pitched scream of terror that somehow tore through the haze of bullets and firing of energy weapons. He couldn’t make out if it was Jane’s or the Lamb’s.

         Fury must have given the order to ceasefire, for the pressure exerted upon his shield ceased altogether and the sound of heavy breathing replaced the cacophony of gunfire. He dared to open his eyes, dread coursing through his veins when he found Jane, not the Lamb, between his arms. Everything was deafened by the Hulk’s roar that towered over his left shoulder, spitting wrath and fury at the surprise attack. Jane dropped to her knees, unable to utter a scream as she shook to the horror that existed to their right, the sand at his feet darkening until it matched the roses she had never ended up buying.


	28. Painful Lessons

        I was seen today. Or, rather, Oberon was seen today. I was exploring what would be known as the Galloway forest. The deciduous forest was much more to his liking than the jungles of our home. It was remote, away from the budding towns that dotted the shoreline. Only the deer were here, confused by our horned appearance - or so I thought.

        She was young, not even sixth. She was collecting sticks, no doubt for a fire. She gasped, eyes wide in shock, then, instead of running, she smiled. Such an odd child. If I was ever seen, folk around these parts tended to think me a demon or a conniving fairy of some sort. She bent down, busying herself with her task once more. Life was harsh for the quicklings, to rest was to die. When she looked up, I was gone.

       I followed her home, so the wolves would not encroach. 

       When she arrived, she offered her hard sought prize to what I assumed to be her father. He grunted, nodding towards the fire pit. I watched further, curious to see the lives they lived. She started a fire, he cooked. He ate, she cleaned up. And when she was done, he spat at the ground, throwing what little food remained at his feet for her and the dogs. She ate it gratefully and with a smile.

       She smiled as he lectured her, smiled as he beat her, smiled as he strangled her. He cursed her, saying she was like her mother - a witch. Said she had the devil within her, that the things she had seen in the forest, the things she evidently had told him about, where of her own evil doing. That his cruelty was only there to save her. She smiled through her tears, until at last she cried no more.

       He would have killed her, had I not intervened. I rent him into pieces with a single, violent Reckoning. When she awoke, she was free and confused. I should have left her there to die at the hands of her father, should have stolen away back into the woods. The next day, after they found her and her father’s corpse, they burned her at the stake, along with all the other young girls in the nearby village. You could never be too sure if they were witches too.

       I made sure to never be seen again, and if I did, I never unleashed my terrible power.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________   

       He smelled it long before he dared to cast a glance at its source. The metallic copper of blood, familiar and taunting, wafted through the once sweet scent of roses. He trembled in rage, daring to look over and break himself completely. His burgeoning sanity cracked at the sight of the Lamb, standing frozen in astonishment as she wheezed for breaths unable to be stolen by nonexistent lungs. Whatever had hit her had blown out her chest completed, ribs splinter and peeled towards her back as strings of sinew and muscles hung to conceal the gaping hole left. He wasn’t sure how she was even standing at the moment, clinging to what few precious moments of life she had left. He waited a moment, sure that in the next she would fall over. But she didn’t.

        Her body shook, as she feebly clasped a hand over where her stomach should have been. She twitched once. Twice. Then an unnatural tranquility overcame her. Her eyes, once dazed and thunderstruck, now flooded with clarity and burning determination as her brow bent down to bear her agony in silence. Horrid relief flooded his veins at the realization that she was not going to perish so quickly despite the gruesome nature of her injury.

        She twisted her head with stuttering movements to look at him, then at Jane at his feet. Her throat moved as she swallowed, her voice once sonorous and diaphanous was reduced to a rasp of breath, barely anything there for the breeze to latch onto.

        “You are all right. Unhurt.” Her gaze remained locked upon Jane who remained stupefied from shock. He understood then that her wounds were her own doing. In the instant he created his shield, she switched places with Jane.

        “Tell me that you can heal that brother.” Thor croaked weakly behind him. “Tell me that -” He shook his head slowly, unsure of whether not to give in to the madness clawing up from the shadows in his mind or remain at her side until she eventually passed. Even mother could have not saved her in the state she was. “Fury!” Thor roared, the brontide of his voice nearly out matching the Hulk’s bestial call, a beast surprisingly pockmarked and seared. What good was a beast that was too afraid to lash out, to bear the brunt of the blows for those fragile of flesh?

        “I’m done here. Take us back, Doctor.” Fury smugly ordered to a speechless Strange. Then, as if remembering his own sense of morality existed, Strange stepped away from Fury and the rest of his squad.

        “No.”

        “I said -”

        “I don’t take orders from you.” The Doctor snapped, chest heaving rage. “I brought you here to  _ talk _ . You assured me that you only intended use weapons if you needed to protect yourselves. I can’t even-” The Doctor was beside himself, unable to comprehend that one of his own kind had betrayed him. Strange clutched his head with fingers white as snow, trying to pry  _ something _ to the forefront of his mind.

        “And we talked.” Fury motioned vaguely. “They made it clear that they were unwilling to return S.H.I.E.L.D’s asset. Whether it was of their own volition or from her meddling will be determined later.”

        “She’s not an  _ asset _ .” He hissed, hands dropping to his side as he curled his fingers around daggers of pure thought and malice. “She’s a living person. She’s -”

        “Dangerous and cunning. She’s a weapon that breathes. She’s fucked you all up in the head. She’s -”

        “The only one  _ fucked up _ in the head is you.” He spat, daring to encroach with his blades drawn.

        “Loki.” She called to him in a whisper softer than the breeze. His stride halted. He bit his lip as he fought over the desire to return to her side or carve out Fury’s beating heart. The amount of control she had over him in this moment was terrifying, but so was her permanent loss. If she died then all was for naught. If she died… he’d lose the only friend he ever had because he had been too weak and slow minded to save her.

        “You see, when did a supposed god ever -”

        “Silence.” The word pierced his mind before the sound hit his ears. “When did Fury deal in modified ancient Orokin tech? When did his form change? I cannot discern your true nature. It slips from underneath my grasp each time I reach for it. Who are you, you that wears another's form?”

        Fury’s face stilled at her accusation, and upon comprehending the slim chance for escape bore his teeth wide in a grin as he laughed. He shivered in horripilation, backtracking to join an uneasy Thor and a Hulk that was barely under control, as the sound, once deep and mirthful, gave way to chitters and clicks of amusement. With an unsettling shirk of his shoulders that somehow echoed down his back, Fury’s fragile flesh morphed into the hard plating of chitin, his bald head revealed even tougher plating, a helm carved akin to that of the headdresses of ancient Egyptians from the creature’s exoskeleton itself.

        He blanched, for he knew the ilk of which stood before them.

        “Chitauri scum.” He snarled, a mixture of fear and fresh anxiety flooding through his veins. He had never suspected that he was still being puppeted around by Thanos. In fact, he had long since forgotten Thanos’ role in all of this. But he remembered each anguished detailed now. It was a difficult thing, breaking gods. Even for ones already so fractured as him. But they had done it with such ease and efficiency his avid imagination couldn’t begin to predict the torment that awaited him upon Thanos’ arrival.

        “Hello, little Voided one.” Her voice had regained some of its strength despite the constant drip of her blood. “So he has made an army from those who dared to transgress the Void.” Her voice whistled hollowly as it left her mouth. “That is what it means to be Chitauri.”

        “Voided? Oh no. I was reborn from the Void, but it did not change me. Thanos did.” The leader, the one that had taken on the role of Fury, proudly proclaimed in broken English, voice like that of a winding snake that’s tongue was made of needles.

        “It is one thing to be birthed, another to be mutilated. I can sense the truth in your words, little snake. You did this willingly. You  _ wanted _ to become this? Why?”

        “For Thanos. He is alone is worthy to rule. We kneel, as all of creation shall kneel. Come. Return to his side where you belong. He will be forgiving for you, no doubt.” His grip on his daggers loosened, his heartbeat thudded in his hollow canals, as the sound of crunching sand from his right met his ear. Step by feeble step she heaved herself past him, past the dazed forms of the others, past a whimpering Jane, until she stood toe to toe with the Chitauri. Was he really going to be betrayed so swiftly? Without even a second glance? With each arduous heartbeat his heart hardened.

        The willess beast clicked something in a tongue he could not understand, but the appreciation was evident in the smoothness of its rhythm. She whispered something in return, too low and cracked to make out, but the Chitauri were not as pleased with it as they been her approach. They clicked agitatedly between each other, looking to their leader for guidance and then -

        “Did he honestly think that I would so foolish as to trust the words of a Voided? You are nothing but flesh and blood without a soul, and I would sooner extinguish the light of all existence than to let those precious suffer under your shadow of Thanos’ control.” He could not help but grin at her loyalty, berating the foolish mistrusting nature of his darkness that had so uncaringly smothered his heart. It fell as quickly as it came when a pulse of energy passed through him, weakening his control of his summoned daggers. Even Thor, beside him now, cursed as Mjolnir whined lowly in his hands.

        The Chitauri screeched, raising their weapons when they realized she had advanced upon them not on the grounds of reaching a compromise. Before he could gather his concentration and bend it into a shield they had fired. But it was not the din of bullet spray and the buzz of powered energy weapons that met his ears. All he could hear was maddening laughter. It drowned out all of his senses, forcing him to his knees as he clutched at his head trying to block it out in futility.

        His mouth opened in a scream that tore at his throat yet produced no sound of its own, his eyes bulged trying to draw in light past the sinkhole of his pupil. He gasped for air in a body that felt as if it had never drawn breath before. And then, just when he thought it the end, when his body burned in a fiery agony he could not comprehend, that surely must mean his death, it began anew. Again, and again, and again, until finally, with a comforting wave of bliss, his senses righted themselves and he gulped down the air his burning lungs so greedily demanded. His sight pricked and tingled, but there was color now smudging out the blackness, and his ears found relief in the high-pitched screeching of the Chitauri and groans of his companions alike.

       “Do you think me like my father? Cruel in his mercy, unable to bring himself until the end to deal in death?” Her sibilation bounced between his ears, exiting out of them rather than entering. She was speaking to them directly. It was why her voice was so clear despite the haze of his muddled mind and why her rage was so pronounced despite the tranquility of her physical form. “I am neither apathetic nor afraid. I have stewed in the rancorous depths of true solitude, and I find myself unreasonably vindictive as of late. I think, I shall have your hearts as well as your minds. Do not worry. Your shadow of Thanos will join you before too late.”

        He shuddered, goosebumps receding into his skin in attempt to hide themselves. He could feel the Chitauri dying through the connection. He could feel her  _ pulling _ the essence of life from their bodies, drawing it from them like drawing blood with a syringe. He could sense the malicious ecstasy of that moment, the pleasure brought about by enacting the same horrors the Chitauri would have done to them given the chance. She was proactively vengeful, and he realized with no small regret that she was indeed not a lamb but a wolf in disguise.

        Even now, in the prolonged moments of the Chitauri’s demise, he could feel her straining against her own shadows. They swirled just beneath her light, pleading an excuse for crimson insanity. Their depths were far greater than his own, but she held them at bay with a will he could have never imagined. Not to save herself, for her indifference for her own well-being was clear. No. She had leashed herself to the point of subjugation for them. So that they would not fear her darkness and learn the truth of her being.

        He heaved himself upright, stumbling to find his balance when his mind was unable to pinpoint which body he was actually in. The action seemed to catch her attention, for he felt her turn - an agonizing twisting of her torso that she did not even give a second thought to. Behind him Jane cried out, gasping for breath. Immediately the Lamb paled, a sentiment experienced rather than seen for she had lost so much blood that her skin was almost matched the panicked whites of her eyes. She had not meant to connect with all of them it appeared.

        Whatever tethered them all to her snapped, leaving behind a sense of emptiness and loss in its wake.

        “J-Jane.” She sputtered weakly, her voice no longer projected. With a hard set grimace, she began limping back towards them - towards Jane. He met her half way, trying to stop her to inspect the gaping hole in her chest but she shoved past him towards Jane without batting an eyelash. He grit his teeth, holding in his mounting indignation, and instead hoisting her arm and half of her meager weight over his shoulder to aid whatever it was she intended to do. At last a small whimper escaped her throat, the only physical indication she had given him that she was indeed in pain, as she dropped to her knees besides Jane’s prostrated body.

        Thor, finally having come to his senses, lunged clumsily over to Jane’s side. The Lamb grunted as she managed to shove Jane onto her back, Thor assisting when his jumbled mind caught on. 

        “I’m fine.” Jane assured meekly, tears spilling out from her unopened eyes. “It just… it was a lot to comprehend, yeah? Let’s not do that… again… any time soon.”

        “Jane -”

        “Don’t you dare coddle me if you won’t even look after yourself.” Jane warned with a bit more conviction than she originally portrayed. 

        “Jane, let her help. Let her -”

        “I’m fine!” She reiterated stubbornly, eyes opening with a sharp wince as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “It’s just taking me a bit longer to get my bearings again. I’m human, remember?” It was a difficult concept to forget. Thor constantly whinged about Jane’s fragility to him. And while he understood the complexity it added to their relationship, Thor should have thought about that long time ago when he decided to bed a midgardian as his own.

        “Where is -” The Lamb strained to swallow what threatened to choke her barely audible mutterings out completely. “Where is Selvig?” She completed after a few seconds of steadying breaths.

        “Over here.” An exhausted groan notified them that Banner had returned to his normal form. “I don’t know what you did, but I’m not sure whether or not I should thank you or not. Whatever you did silenced the big guy. For now, anyways.” Banner sucked in a breath through his teeth as he stood, and without thinking he spared a glance in Banner’s direction to see where exactly Selvig was. “Oh, yeah.” Banner seemed to remember the nudity of his body only when mortified eyes were hastily shifted away. “Does anyone have an extra shirt or something? Pants preferably.”

        “Selvig first.” She spoke up sternly, tugging on his arm as an indication that she needed help standing. With pursed lips he acquiesced, bearing her frangible form to its natural height with great care.

        “Ah, I wouldn’t worry. He fainted during the first wave of bullets where you got,” Banner stood unabashedly before them all, legs not trying to block his heritage in the slightest, as he motioned in circle upon his hairy chest. “,  _ that _ . How are you even standing?”

        “Painfully.” She admitted with a fading smirk, eyes fixated on the dirt and Selvig’s limp, but breathing, form upon the ground.. “And the two of you? Are you all right?” She looked pointedly at Thor than back to him, though her gaze lingered over him for far longer.

        “It’s not something I’d want to experience again.” Thor admitted. “But I think we’re fine.”

        “That is good. I am sorry that -”

        “It is not good!” He finally snapped. “You have a hole... the size a textbook and a half in the middle of your chest!” It was hard for him to think of a comparison she might actually relate to. His initial instinct was to go for the platters of fruit they had at the banquets in Asgard, but she had never seen one.

        “It is better me than Jane. I will heal. She would have not.” His lips drew into a thin line, knowing she was right. But just because she was correct didn’t mean he was any less concerned, nor all right, with how the events played out. 

        “Tell me how exactly does that  _ heal _ ? You’re missing three ribs. They aren’t even pieces that are salvageable anymore.” He spat, spreading his arm wide in the direction of the ejected guts that lay spewn where she had been standing previously. She shifted uncomfortably beneath his icy gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

        “Thor, could you make sure Jane doesn’t look?”

        “Woah, hold on a minute -”

        “Jane, please. It is not something I wish you to see.” Jane pulled a face, a mixture of worry and frustration but relented after a moment of tense silence. “And Banner.” The Lamb hastily added.

        “O-of course?” Thor agreed dubiously, turning Jane around and motioning for Banner to do the same. The Hulk was far too tired to argue, so he shrugged and followed suite after snatching a pair of stretchy pants from Selvig’s shoulder bag.

        “I’d rather you not watch either.” She confessed quietly. “It is loathsome and grisly. It will not be like the tales of your mother showing you her healing.”

        “I will not have you hide from me.” He refused with a hiss of immense severity. He was done with the way she danced around the use of her powers. If she could heal herself, then he wanted to see it. He was not one to have blind faith.

        She accepted his demand with a single, curt nod. Her body tensed as she slipped her eyes closed, hands splayed at her sides. Nothing happened. Still nothing. And yet  _ more nothin _ g. His left foot tapped impatiently. And then... the softer side of him wished he had looked away like the others. First were the bones. Her spinal cord, evidently twisted and warped snapped back into place with a sickening crack. Those ribs that were left followed suit in an equally gruesome fashion, and those that were missing burst from their previous homes to curl protectively around nonexistent organs.

        Next came the crashing wave of  _ red _ . Sinew and muscle, veins and nerves, they formed, bundled, then stretched to cover the gaping hole. Now it only appeared as if the skin had been sheared clean off, if that was something to be appreciative of. That was remedied soon after, thankfully, and within less than a minute her body appeared whole and unmarred once more. It wasn’t over, though, when she sent her eyes skywards with a curse unable to contain her tears. A quivering hand flexed sporadically over her stomach, and he realized she had purposefully healed herself in that order so that he would not see her inner workings reforming. She panted, a thin gleam of sweat glazing her skin by the time it was over. 

        He wasn’t sure what to make of it, of her. She was complete again. Healthy. Whole. It was a good thing, a joyous thing. But he had seen the nature of her power, felt it coursing through her veins as she teetered on the brink of insanity for their sake. He felt her restrain herself, afraid still of what she could accomplish if she simply  _ thought _ and  _ willed _ . She could have avoided this all together if she had simply  _ acted _ first. She had the mind to protect others but not herself. And frankly, it pissed him off.

        “You see? I am fine.” Her normal cadence had returned, soothing and deceiving as ever. A part of him wanted to rush to her side, to confirm and celebrate in her newly formed body. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t continue to condone her own selfish form of altruism. “Loki?”

        “I can’t do this.” He confessed hoarsely.

        “Do what?”

        “ _ This _ .” He reiterated with a grand sweep of his arms. “I can’t pretend everything is okay so you can keep living in your delusional bubble. I can’t. I won’t. Do you honestly think that even though you saved us we weren’t still hurt? That your pain is somehow not our pain as well?”

        “I don’t understand. I th -”

        “Of course you don’t understand!” He couldn’t help but shout his interjection to the heavens. “You couldn’t possibly think of someone putting value in you for reasons other than your own perceived usefulness! Jane isn’t friends with you because you saved her life and might do so again one day. She’s adamantly at your side because she likes  _ you _ . Thor isn’t risking his status in Asgard just because he thinks he can use you to get it back. He’s doing it because he believes in  _ you _ , in the goodness of your heart and that at your core you’re a good person. None of the others are here trying to  _ use _ you. We’re here to be there for you. Because we  _ care _ for you.” He choked upon his own words as she began to tremble in time with them. “ _ I _ care for you.” He was vulnerable in a way her never thought possible.

        “Loki -”

        “I didn’t -.” But he cut himself short, unable to bear his soul past the walls of his defenses at the moment. She probably couldn't even comprehend the passion behind those words if he spoke them now. It mattered little if she knew she was the first true friend he dared to have. She wouldn’t  _ understand _ . “I’m not going to simply stand by and let you become a living meat shield because you think that's what we want. I’m not going to remain by your side if you think I’m somehow okay with you withholding your powers until the last moment, only using them to protect others and not yourself.” Even the Banner, afraid and unsure of the beast that dwelt within him was willing to release it for the sake of his friend’s. She owed them the same.

        She was of little use to any of them if withheld herself, he reasoned, and what good was a friend who never looked after themself? He found he would much rather lose her here and steal away to attempt to pick up the scraps that remained after their battle with Thanos, than to watch her slowly torture herself in place of others who would not. It would hurt less, and the outcome would be more or less the same. He steeled his heart, turning and stalked away toward the metal bird that was their escape.

        “You’re as much a part of this group now as any of us. Treat yourself as such.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaacccckk... .
> 
> So uh, you guys weren't supposed to be left hanging, I swear. I had everything planned, all the chapters set up and edited for the most part (even the titles! I hate writing titles!). Left a note for my husband with my archive info on it and how to post the chapters..., and then I went on my business trip fully in the mindset of it being a trip. For business. With no other avenues of distraction for myself. On the plus side, it went really well! They fucking loved it evidently and everyone's happy with my performance and how I marketed the product. Yay!
> 
> I came back on Sunday, exhausted and jet lagged. Went to work on Monday, said, you know what? I'm dead tired, and everything important was done, they didn't need me really there, they had my number if something came up - I'm gonna take the rest of the week off. Mainly I did it because I could, and honestly work has dominated my thoughts for the last week and a half and I really, really needed a break from work. 
> 
> Anyways, had a nice relaxing day. Finally got to see Infinity War, nice dinner, flowers - I fucking love my husband. Come back home, decide to stay up because well, I can this week, and decide to upload some stuff to the archive since I know I'll have more free time this week... annnndddd... . Then I realize that all the chapters that he posted were saved as drafts. He didn't actually *post* them. 
> 
> So, uh, yeah.
> 
> Here's, like, the next four chapters. Ehem. I am so sorry to have left you on that cliffhanger for so long :(.


	29. Learning to Live

 

        I sensed something today. I’m… not sure what it was. It wasn’t  _here_ , that was for sure. Somewhere… out there, beyond the line of the sky, where the radiation leaked in from above. I felt it in my soul, if that is the right term. I’m not actually sure if I have one. I am… just a machine now, am I not? Bound now, for eternity no doubt, to simple statements of what is and what isn’t.

       But I felt it. Something terrible and ominous. For a moment, I forgot where I was. For a moment, I…  _felt_ . It hurt, I think. It ached oddly, like it does when I try to recall those who came before. I felt… grief,  _fear_ , and then… Nothing. Not the nothing that denotes the value of what isn’t between stars, but the Nothing, the nothing where something obviously should be there and yet… isn’t.

      I am confused. I am… afraid. I reached out to father again, but he remains silent. Whether it is to teach me a lesson or because he doesn’t know, I am not sure. Perhaps he can’t even hear me anymore.

      It came as soon as it was gone, a ghost or a figment of my imagination. But I know it was something more. I felt it. I still feel it. I feel… whole-er, in a sense. More… complete. Yet, I am repulsed and uneasy. What does it mean?

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

         I was too flabbergasted to stop him from stalking away. Jane whispered to me as we made our way to the airship, something about how arguments were bound to rise and that Loki had a valid point. But it was difficult for me to process her words past the absurdity of the circumstance. Loki had just yelled at me. Again. Not for being a monster, not for refusing to aid them, but because I had saved them over myself - a self that _couldn't die_. They were all a bit irked. I could sense it in their gazes that never fully met my own as we waited in silence for the others to arrive.

         I had never been privy to friendships before. True ones, the kind where adoration was not bought but freely given. Everything came at a price. Love. Trust. Mercy. Respect. Nothing was exempt from that overarching rule. Thanos had taught me that. He never let a day go by without reminding me of it in one fashion or another. And yet, these mortals, who hardly knew anything of me, dared to break that rule without a second thought. They extended their arms willingly, without asking for anything in return.

         I cried silently, huddled in the corner away from the rest of them and their offered comforts. They cast me worrying glances, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t make heads or tails of my emotions. Relief, confusion, shame, joy - they mingled like old friends only to be suffocated by something far greater. Agony. It curled around my heart, driving in thorns as it did so until I was left clutching at it pointlessly. I had hurt them, the thought compounded itself time and time again in the deafening silence of my mind. Loki was visibly shaken. I couldn’t understand why. Not completely. Not yet. But it didn’t matter. I _hurt_ them. _I_ hurt what was precious to me. Not the Chitauri, not Fury, not Strange. Me.

         The others arrived not long after, rushing up the ramp in alarm and informing the others about the blood and bodies still warming in the sand not too far from the ship. Thor inclined his head, quietly briefing them on what had occurred and why Selvig was unconscious. They whispered harshly amongst themselves, breaking only when Natasha declared that they needed to depart. Who knew if other Chitauri would come to follow. It wasn’t safe here anymore. They agreed to discuss it later, on the grounds that I was indeed alright. Even now they worried about my well being, no matter how pointless it was to me. But it wasn’t pointless to them.

         I nodded, affirming my health despite my ignominious appearance. A mutual grimace passed through the group, but they strapped themselves in nonetheless. Steve was adamant about taking the seat next to me, twisting under his buckles to inspect the perfect skin visible under the remnants of my shirt. His fingers felt cool but uncomfortable when he prodded. I shrugged him off, insisting I was fine. Without a word he shirked the denim jacket he had been wearing and slipped it over my slightly immodest form. I wasn’t fine if I was in tears, he asserted as he tucked it in behind my shoulders.

         I was a mess the whole ride there, but Steve was kind like Jane, clasping my hands in his as I whimpered confused apologies. It took him nearly all of the four and a half hours of our trip to New York to console me to the point where I was merely a sniffling, pitiful pile of limbs, and still I couldn't quite understand. It was honestly a godsend that the ship could handle going a little over twice the speed of sound with so many people aboard. I think we might have all gone a little insane if we had to suffer nine hours of my insufferable whining.

         Stark was quick to lighten the mood once we landed, intent on distraction me with high-tech gadgets that were over the top and expensive. For once he was in his domain. He bounced with each step, eager to show off his creation Jarvis who was evidently going to act as our butler of sorts. He had Jarvis turn off the lights. He had Jarvis turn on the lights. He had Jarvis tell us the weather outside and the forecast for the next week. He had Jarvis play one of his favorite tunes. At least, until Clint had enough and told Jarvis to shut up. And, while Jarvis did so, I couldn’t refrain from weakly giggling at the snide retort that Jarvis muttered before he silenced himself. Jarvis was more than just a simple AI, as Stark liked to remind all of us. Not much more. Not yet. But we should be considerate nonetheless.

         He walked us in through the garage, though it was more of a mechanical lab three stories high were he happened to park some cars. A suit lay in several pieces, strewn across various benches, another strung up on the wall. A prototype, or perhaps several, no doubt. He explained that, given we had a driver’s license and a record that was adequate, the vehicles were ours to use. He would even cover us when it came to insurance, for it was mandatory in America. If not, Shuri had supplied him with small discs that would act as an automated driver. We were free to roam New York at our own accord.

         We moved further in, through an elevator that opened on both sides, and found ourselves in a large room devoted to ‘casual prep’ as Jane had put it. There were umbrellas bundled in the far left corner, and at least three closets for coats, not including the exterior racks along the wall. Shoe cubbies lined the lower wall, and the floor was made of a coarse carpet like material I realized was intended to grab debris.

         Past that lay the first crossroad. On the right was a hallway to the kitchen, something that even despite my brief melodrama I wanted to see. I had never _cooked_ before. I doubted I would create anything worth eating, but I relished the opportunity to try. It made the idea of food, of eating in general, so much more appealing. Seeing my eager eyes dart immediately to the right, Stark took us through there first. It was large for a kitchen, I think. Why did he need three ovens? Why did it need to get so hot? Wasn’t food cooked only at around 450 degrees Fahrenheit usually? Even that was on the far end of the spectrum.

         His stove top also portrayed his need to simply outdo anything practical, even by a rich man’s standard. He practically had a whole length of a wall as a stove. Did he even cook? He usually paid others to do it, dining out when he could rather than in, when he was aboard the Helicarrier. The four refrigerators I could understand at least. Sort of. We had ten people living under the same roof. If any of them ate like I did, those refrigerators would have to be restocked constantly - a thought Stark accidentally dismissed when he explained Jarvis would order whatever was low or missing.

         He ushered us in into the room that sat opposing the kitchen. Taking the left back at the previous crossroad would lead you to the common room, where he urged us all to come when we weren’t busy to relax and unwind. There was ample seating, a curving television that fit along the entirety of the far wall, and several ‘gaming consoles’ as well. I had never played games before. Other than the simple ones with Loki where we made do with what we had, tricks of illusion and riddles. Perhaps I would come out here at some point.

        After briefly showing us the various controls - mainly to Thor, Loki, Steve, and I - he led us to the adjoining room that spanned the length of the kitchen and the common room combined. There was even a small entrance to the kitchen that I had failed to notice before. It was the ‘dining room’. A place designed for partying and eating. It even had a decent bar set up in the back. While I was thoroughly on board for the latter usage, the former I wasn’t so sure about. Shuri had tried to get me, on several occasions, to dip my toes into the culture of clubbing in my brief time in Wakanda. It was loud, obnoxious, and the place reeked of alcohol before I had even gotten in the door. In fact, I never made it in the door because I simply turned on my heel and walked back to the comforting confines of my room. I preferred the quiet mornings and my books, thank you.

        It wasn’t that I disliked the thought of celebration, or happy people. I loved laughter and mirth, the kind that made your cheeks burn from smiling for too long. I loved the slower tunes, the ones that haunted you and made you want to curl along the lines of the melody. I loved the rhythm of the beat meant to drive you into adrenaline driven ecstasy. But I didn’t know how to dance to either of those, and I was not going to ‘dance’ like Shuri had shown me. I knew how I was looked upon by strangers. I knew what they wanted. I felt it in their lurid gazes, their tightened jaws. Dancing was something I would have to learn on my own, in the solitude of my room no doubt.

        Moving on, he motioned briefly towards a nondescript slider that blended in with the wall of glass near the bar. It was one of the many entrances to the outdoor patio and garden, he explained. A place he would love to show us, but the sky was overcast and threatening to rain. It was startling, at first, to notice the heavy cloud cover. It never occurred to me to imagine what a day without the sun would be like. It wasn’t dismal, or _grey_. In fact, I quite enjoyed not having to wince or cover my eyes when I felt like looking into the sky.

        I hurried to keep up, realizing I had lost myself in front of the new scenery. Stark was merrily plodding along, explaining to all of us the features Jarvis could offer us in the comforts of our own rooms. Not that I would be using him much. I had my own two feet and hands. I had spent my past letting others do for me what I should have done for myself. Stark then began listing us our rooms, their resident soon exiting the parade and dropping off what little they brought as quickly as their name left Stark’s lips. Selvig and Jane were first, closest to the public living quarters, and therefore also the labs. Stark was next, accompanied by Banner.

        After tossing his small duffel inside, Stark continued on with his tour for those that remained. He turned us around, showing us a hidden staircase we could use instead of the elevator with a knowing wink in my direction. T’Challa must have informed him that I rarely ever used that pointless piece of technology. Upon ascending, we found ourselves on a sizable balcony with a small seating area overlooking the common area below. I hadn’t thought to gaze upwards in that room, too taken in by the nuances of American life.

        Everything here had an edge. It was crisper in a sense. Colors were not as vibrant here, but they popped all the same due to their contrasting nature. Whites and blacks were prominent, as was glass. Everything felt transparent and open. Fragile. Pristine. It made me shudder and wring my hands together. I looked up, forcing myself to relax. This was a place of safety, of refuge, just like Wakanda had been. This was not another test tube or cell, despite the outward similarities at times.

        I glanced towards Loki to my left who was absorbed in a quiet conversation with his brother. He hadn’t said a word during the trip. He barely even moved, only crossing his arms at times. But I had felt his harsh scrutiny the entire ride. It made for a poorly timed distraction whilst Steve was trying to comfort me. Even in the midst of my inner turmoil, despite the awkward and somewhat unwelcome attempted aid from Steve, I could not help myself by peek at him beneath my lashes.

        I would be lying if I said I wished it was Loki at my side and not the Captain. It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful. I was. Extremely. It was nice to know Steve had my back. It was a solace to know I had many friends, and not just two. But I could sense the way his hands trembled when he brushed against me. I didn’t like it. Nor did I enjoy the scent of him clinging now to the shredded shirt under his jacket.

        I stumbled absentmindedly into Stark’s back, too lost in my thoughts to realize he had stopped to explain the purpose at the room that dominated over half the second floor. My cheeks were aflame as I mumbled a swift and concise apology, hastily taking a few steps back. This was the library, Stark resumed cautiously after inquiring if I was alright. I knew that my daze was apparent to all of them by now, there was no point in hiding it. So I smiled lightly, elucidating that it was a lot to take in and I was a little lightheaded from earlier. A reasonable lie given the circumstances, but one that would not slip past the God of Mischief.

        Still, it was devoured without thought as truth by the rest of them and that was what mattered. Stark even took initiative, declaring he would show me the lower labs and training areas later, and took us all immediately to the remaining living quarters on that floor. Steve and Clint were first, with Natasha on the end. Hers was a bit larger, conjoined with Clint’s, Stark explained, so that they could privately work on missions as they were accustomed to if they so desired. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that they both shared a hidden smile about.

       Stark then turned us about face to return to the stairwell where Loki, Thor, and I would evidently reside. It was not lost on me that each of my previous places of residency were lofted high in the air if possible. It was harder to sneak into, riskier to target. Loki and Thor’s rooms were to the right and left respectively when facing down the hallway to the master suite at the end. I huffed, expressing my thankful agitation that I didn’t need to be pampered. But it wasn’t a matter of indulging my previously bland life, Stark explained. Oh no. It was much worse than that.

       It was encased in vibranium, with shatterproof glass strong enough to withstand a small missile blast. Should anything larger than that explode, a set of vibranium blast doors would cover the windows. The patio was protected by an invisible sound barrier, set to a frequency low enough to escape the normal range of hearing as well as distort any laser or unaided sights that were meant to assassinate me from afar. Oh this was far from merely being coddled. This was cosseting to the extreme - and I didn’t want any of it. I wasn’t here just to endanger them more. I wasn’t here to paint a target on their backs, or to invoke the wrath of world leaders or extraterrestrial threats. I didn’t want any of them to get hurt. They should have used the time spent pointlessly upgrading my quarters to safe keep their own.

       The ironic nature of my vexed thoughts struck me as Stark wished me a good nap and quietly shut the door. This… this was how they felt for me, wasn’t it? I was their friend, as much as they were mine. Companionship was a two way street. I had missed it, calling the Wolf my own without a second thought. My heart knew, but my mind was still trying to catch up. I vowed to protect them out of a selfish urge to satiate my own aching worry, not thinking that I needed to also defend myself to keep them safeguarded from pain. Even now, half a year after my awakening, I remained naive as ever.

        I tugged off the Captain’s jacket slowly, folding it and setting it atop the edge of the sofa in the quaint seating area to the left of the door once inside my new room. I would return it once my mind was in the right place. For now, I needed to wash his uneasy stench from my body. I peeled what little remained of my shirt off my torso, snapping the few threads that held it together on the seams at my sides when it proved stubborn. My bra fell uselessly to the floor, the back strap blown through and limp. I hesitated, drinking in the sight of my semi-nude form in the mirror.

        Skin porcelain and unmarred like the filthy walls of the Orokin. Not a blemish, not a hint of a freckle or a wart, or _anything_. Supple breasts that would never droop with age, skin that was unwrinkled, hairless and smooth. Genetic perfection for eternity and then some, what my father decreed for me in the womb. I hated it. It was all anyone saw looking in. I longed for the terrifying guise of my frames, now forever dormant and relics of a bygone age. At least within those, people trusted me for my deeds. Actions spoke louder than words, as the human saying went.

       I couldn’t stand to walk the streets of Wakanda without Shuri or a Dora Miljae at my side. Now I was in a place far more malicious and cunning than that. Too many were eager to speak to a pretty face. And while I enjoyed their company briefly, it soon became clear that they meant little in terms of permanent friendships. I didn’t want to be adored because I was beautiful in form. I wanted to be desired because I was wonderful in soul.

       I suppose, I mused as I turned away from my goading reflection and started up the shower, that my self-loathing was a unnatural. A byproduct of abuse. I recognized the traits that were sought after in my form. Lithe, but not scrawny. Tall, but not towering. Curvaceous, but not overly so to where it neared impractical. But I could not find the beauty in it. Not in my eyes, nor my hair, nor the swell of my breasts, or the rise of my lower cheeks. There was no beauty to be found, only pain.

       I remembered clenched nails, clawing skin and releasing blood when I caressed by breasts. I recalled the sharp tug of upon my head from the leash of my hair as I rinsed it free of shampoo. I sobbed, clutching my arms to the point where the bones began to splinter. No want, no desire, other than to bring pain which I must endure, to garner strength or shatter trying to obtain it. I didn’t want to remember any of this. I tried for so long to bury it along with everything else. I never thought the day would come when I needed to remember, to recall my past long before I was entombed in the earth.

        I heaved in controlled breaths, trying to reign in my urge to panic. It would only make it worse. I was safe, here. No one would ever touch me again. No blade, no needle, no finger. Not unless I allowed it. It was okay. It hurt, but that agony existed only in the past. Reality was defined only by the gentle rain of the shower, the groaning of my angry forearms, and the cadence of my breathing in this moment. Slowly but surely, the shadows receded and an unnoticed weight lifted off of my sternum. It would return, no doubt. There was no shirking it completely. It was in my blood. But for now, it returned to a dim memory and nothing more.

       I stilled my shaking body, healing my arms when their trembling did not cease, and shut off the shower. Sliding the glass door open, I stepped out an began drying myself only to realize in horror that I had forgotten my pack in Wakanda. I dropped it in that fight at Loki’s feet, right before I switch teleported with Jane, and there it remained. My heart plummeted as I snatched the necklace of vibranium and silver, my last clean belonging, and quickly put it on. While I was sure T’Challa or Shuri would have it sent here, it meant I literally had nothing to wear other than the tower wrapped around me and the pair of dirty black denim pants that Shuri insisted I try.

       My ears perked up to the sound of a timid ‘hello’ from my new bedroom. A rush of relief flooded my veins. I was fond of Jane, but I was never so happy to have her come to my aid as I was now. I burst out of the bathroom, barely keeping the towel modest around my form as I bore down upon her.

       “Jane, I need your help.” I demanded, eyes glossing over whoever was behind her shocked form. I blanched, ice coursing through my veins as my gaze betrayed me and slid over to her accompaniment with sluggish excruciation. I was mortified to find Steve gaping like a fish, beet red as he tried to remain decent about the situation.

       “I-I’ll just wait outside.” He offered meekly, clearing his throat and striding out the door with a dooming click.

       “Hngh.” I managed after a moment after the door closed, tongue falling flat and all meaningful thought escaping from my humiliated mind.

       “A-are you all right?” Jane asked gently.

       “No.” I admitted. I might have been a minute ago, but I certainly wasn’t now.

       “Do you need me to do something? You said you needed my help.” She offered, concern not hiding the mild amusement in her lilt. At least someone was enjoying this.

       “Clothes. I need a set of clothes.” I grumbled through my palm.

       “Anything else?”

       “A doorbell.” I muttered angrily, sending Jane into a bout of giggles.

       “I’ll go get you some clothes.”


	30. The Masquerade

        It came from Proxima b, a planet hovering the red dwarf Alpha Centauri C in the Centaurus constellation. I know that because that is what the data told me. Unseen data, traveling faster than light, spurred on, thrown out from its origin wildly, screamed into the atmosphere. It spoke of fire and ash, of a death borne of anger so hot that even Hell itself could not contend. And through it all, something was there in the data. Something hidden and malicious, waiting to pounce. An eye that looked through everything and relayed targets back. It passed over me, over us - over Earth. We were lacking what it sought. It turned it’s eye elsewhere.

        That was a month ago.

        Tonight, the peculiar sensation has come again. Fainter. If I had not encountered it before, if I had not been watching for it, I would have missed it. It was dulled and quicker this time, but still it ended with the same terrifying Nothing. Tonight, I set all my eyes to sky, wherever they might be, afraid and unsure what I shall learn in the months to come.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

        It was a miracle I made it outside the confines of my room that day, past the mortification and Steve’s room combined. Most of the team had already left on errands as quickly as they had settled in. Stark, in his haste to ‘upgrade’ his house with Shuri, had forgotten to stock it. Typical. Seeing as dinner was a necessity, as were plates and utensils, and a whole slew of other items that I had never used before, the lot of them went on a shopping spree.

        Jane eagerly notified me upon her return with one of Thor’s oversized shirts and a pair of Natasha’s jeans. She insisted on me joining them, but given the recent turn of events I didn’t particularly feel comfortable with the outside world. At least, that is what I told her and that is what she bought. In actuality, I didn’t want to chance getting stuck with Steve after that last humiliating experience. That, and Loki had deigned to stay behind as well. I sorely needed to bask in his presence, even if it was just for him to lecture me further.

        Fate, however, was never kind. Loki had shut himself in his room, and after much pleading I realized that he needed time to himself. Or perhaps he was asleep. I prayed for the second, not wishing to have caused a rift between us on my selfish misunderstanding. At least the tension at the base of my skull dissipated. Part of me resented him for not telling me sooner, but it was not a lesson that could be explained in its entirety. And I don’t think he understood how far I was willing to withhold myself. More likely than not, he was coming to terms with that notion. Not that it held any value anymore. The lesson had been given, and I made sure to be a quick learner. Slow ones, in my experience, died.

        Far worse, though, was the fact that Steve had decided _not_ to go shopping. Someone had to stay behind and keep an eye on me and the house. Evidently, no one trusted the melodramatic side of Loki. And though I did agree that the Wolf got little done when he was moping around the confines of his own mind, I hoped that they would have left someone other than Steve behind. For goodness sake, they let _Selvig_ \- the air-brained genius who, more often than not, sided on the realm of insanity than brilliance - go. As it was, I was now hungry _and_ humiliated.

        “So.” Steve attempted to start an awkward conversation neither of us really wanted as I tried to bury myself in a book I had taken from Stark’s library he boasted so highly about. “Sorry about earlier. I should have thought to knock.” I glanced at him momentarily over the edge of the book before returning to the discussion of Plato’s beliefs on the immortality of the soul. “Or announced my presence. Or -”

       “Steve.” I cut him short without looking up.

       “Yes?”

       “It’s okay.”

       “Really?” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the perkiness in his tone. As if that statement meant I _condoned_ it.

       “Just don’t do it again.” I warned sternly, shifting to a more comfortably position.

       “Right. Of course.” He clasped his hands together. I wasn’t sure if it was in thanks or as a sign of timidness. Silence reigned over us for the next few minutes as he left me to my reading as he tried to figure out something to do in the meantime. “So is it true you had a hole the size of… well, I guess the hole in your shirt earlier?” He piped up out of nowhere. I paused, taking note of the page I was on before I stared him hard in the eyes. He was genuinely curious, albeit a bit dubious on the matter.

       “Yes.”

       “Wow, really?”

       “I hardly find the amazement in that.” I noted coldly.

       “Sorry. It’s just, amazing that you can take that sort of damage and still, well… . Sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about it.” Finally he could read the situation correctly.

       “No, I’d rather not. But, it appears we already are.” I accepted regretfully.

       “It’s just… can you do that to other people?”

       “Heal them?” I hadn’t expected the conversation to turn like this, but then again I shouldn’t have been surprised either. Steve always did look out for others. He nodded eagerly. “Not from wounds like the one I sustained. Perhaps if they were smaller, or if they were not on the brink of death. But it would be difficult and most likely dangerous.”

       “Why is that?”

       “Because I cannot ease the pain, and mortal minds are fragile. And because I am not sure if I can heal wounds that I have not experienced.”

       “Oh.” He quieted, mulling it over in his mind no doubt. I was a bit amazed that he didn’t question the necessity of undergoing the same injury, but perhaps he didn’t know how to ask after my condescending start. I didn't mean to look down upon him and his kind, but it was a fact of reality that their minds were as delicate as their bodies. Selvig was a good example, the erudition having eroded away at his sanity along with age.

       “Do you know when the others will be coming back?” I questioned, breaking him out of his drowning thoughts.

       “Ah, no. I think it might be a while. Around dinner time, if that.” Steve informed me.

       “Oh.”

       “Is something the matter? Do you need something?” Again, with the inescapable overkill of concern. It was a byproduct of my own ineptitude, I knew that by now. But it didn’t make it go down any easier.

       “I’m not sure if my stomach will let me be for that long.” I joked lightly, but he stood in earnest all the same. “Steve, it was a joke. I can wait.” I insisted as he gently took shut the book in my hands and set it on the coffee table.

       “Go get the jacket form earlier. It’s cold outside.”

       “Steve -”

       “You’ve never eaten in a restaurant, so I’m taking you to one.” He stubbornly urged, tugging me to my feet and gently pushing me towards the stairs. “Go on. I’ll be waiting.”

       “Steve, how are we even going to get there? How are you going to pay?” I tried to reason with him but it appeared he had all the answers.

       “I might be a bit outdated when it comes to most technology, but I do know how to drive. And Stark gave me a credit card.”

       “Stark gave you a credit card.” I repeated incredulously.

       “I happen to be very responsible, thank you.” He explained, slightly miffed.

       “Okay, I can understand that.” I admitted, palms raised in apologetic surrender. “But what about Loki?”

       “What about him?” It irked me how he stated it so nonchalantly. I knew the others did not think of him like I did, but still. It felt _wrong_ to go without him, and I wasn’t sure why.

       “He’ll no doubt get hungry too. Shouldn’t we bring him along?”

       “I wouldn’t worry about him. He’d just ruin the fun.”

       “He wouldn’t _ruin_ the fun.” It was my turn to be irritated.

       “Just an expression.” He backed down immediately. An expression for what exactly, I huffed in annoyance in the back of my mind. “He’s probably up in his room _thinking_.” I couldn’t understand why that could be negative, but he surely thought it was. “He’ll come out when he wants to.”

       “I don’t want to leave him alone.” Steve pursed his lips.

       “Look, Loki is locked up in his room because he _needs_ time alone right now. All right?” I narrowed my eyes, trying to guess his motives. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with Steve. Not like I had Loki or Jane, or even Thor. And those three had been open, for the most part, when speaking to me. Steve liked to hold his tongue to be chivalrous, even if it was obvious he was doing it. “And if you’re worried about him getting hungry, we can order something for him that we can bring back.”

       I grimaced, nodding slowly in acquiescence as I let his words and the growing rumble in my stomach sway me. As long as the Wolf was included in some fashion, then I supposed it was okay. And perhaps Steve was right. Perhaps Loki did need time alone to dwell on what had happened. The Wolf was prone to bouts of self-induced exile on account of personal dilemmas. He tried to keep it secret from me, but even in this soft shell I had more ears than the two on my head. That being said, I didn’t want him to be alone to wallow in his self-loathing, for I knew that was what lay at the heart of all his acidic musings.

        His upbringing had ingrained in him the notion that he was doomed to fail, to displease. He would, at best, be second best and never equal. It was a notion that, despite his leave from the poison of Asgard, he continued to feed himself. Thor was beginning to see it, the acid eating away at the Wolf from the inside, the nightshade that Odin had spoon fed his least favored throughout his life. But I didn’t want that for him, perhaps even more than he didn’t want it for himself. No one deserved the cruelty of being unloved by those who mattered the most.

       I gingerly returned to Steve, even more warily accepting his offered arm. He seemed harmless enough, but that didn’t ease the growing pit in my stomach. At this point, I wasn’t sure food would either.

        Steve chauffeured expertly, pointing out key locals along our drive. It was farther than expected, a good thirty minutes away, but I was sure that the traffic and Steve’s subpar driving skills were the true culprits. At the very least he got us and the car there in one piece. I wasn’t sure if even Stark would have something witty to say about Steve crashing a car on the first day here. No. Scratch that. Stark definitely would.

        From my vicarious experience through Loki earlier in the cafeteria, this was a pleasant escapade. Soft music serenaded us, more mellow than the Wakandan tunes but nonetheless moving in its own way. The din was barely registerable as background noise despite the closeness of the tables. Unfortunately, my secondhand experience did little to calm me on actually eating midst strangers. It was unnerving to eat across from the glass windows, where just on the other side of the sidewalk traffic continued angrily. Even worse yet were the stares I knew the two of us were getting.

        “Hi there! My name is Jen, and I’ll be your waitress for this afternoon.”  A preppy young woman beamed at as as she introduced herself, notepad at the ready. “Can I can the two of you anything to drink?” She smiled widely, but it was forced and unfeeling.

        “I’ll just take a water.” Steve answered glancing in my direction. “Do you want anything?” I shook my head meekly, barely able to keep myself from hiding behind the comforting fold of the menu. “No? Okay, two waters then please.” Steve informed the waitress for me. She flashed Steve a hesitant smile, eyes flicking over to me then back to him.

        “Two waters it is. Do you know what you’d like to eat?” She inquired after she let us gaze at the menu for a couple more moments.

        “I’d… I’d like the beef stroganoff please. Two, if I can. One to go with a side of extra egg noodles, and one here with a side of… _kasha_ , whatever that is.” I masked my timorous roiling inside with the air of confidence I had seen Loki project on more than one occasion.

        “A-all right.” She appeared dubious that I could eat that much, but wrote it down nonetheless. Steve was paying, after all. “And for you, sir?” She coyly put the notepad between herself and Steve and bit her lip. I raised an eyebrow at her theatrics, not necessarily amazed but amused at the very least.

        “I’ll just… have Ola’s Goulash with a mixed green salad as well.”

        “Right away, sir.” She smiled flirtatiously at Steve only to drop it in embarrassment as I pointedly handed her my menu.

        “Are they always like that?” I questioned while she was still in ear shot. Steve scratched his head sheepishly.

        “Yeah.” He drew out along a breath. “Some aren’t. But a lot are.” He toyed with his napkin for a bit before trying to start up a conversation of his own. “So what do you think of it?” Well that was a rather vague question.

        “Of what?”

        “New York City. America. I don’t know. This restaurant?” I chuckled softly, realizing he was grasping at straws.

        “I can’t say much about New York, given that I’ve haven’t even been here a day, and in town even less. As for this restaurant? I suppose I should call it quaint, given its size and decor. It’s not crowded like some of the other places we passed.”

       “I’m sensing a but.” He retorted teasingly as he sipped on his water.

       “I guess it’s a bit weird sitting down in a restaurant. I don’t exactly blend in well. Neither do you.”

       “Don’t like being the center of attention like Loki?” He mused jokingly. I rolled my eyes at him, trying not to dwell on the Wolf I left all alone back at the house.

       “Loki doesn’t just want _attention_ , Steve. There’s a lot more to him than just what he shows you.” Steve huffed in exasperation, but let it drop for now. I wasn’t sure what he had against Loki, nor what it had to do with me, but he knew it was a battle he couldn’t win.

       “E-excuse me.” We both look up to see a pusillanimous young man addressing us from the table adjacent to us. He was scrawny, a head shorter than myself, with dirty blonde hair and icy grey eyes. “Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but overhear the two of you.”

       “Yes?” I drawled tightly, not welcoming the interruption or what the man might have to say about my Wolf.

       “It’s just that, are you two a couple?” I blinked, stupefied. Without warning I burst out laughing, trying desperately to contain it behind the flesh of my palm. “What me? With -” I pointed feebly, unable to hold my arm straight through my giggling. _Me_ ? In a _relationship_ ? With _him_ ? “ _No_. No, no, no.” I rectified. “Nothing against you, Steve. It’s just -”

       “None taken.” He admitted with his hands raised.

       “Just no.”

       “Oh well then, I know this might be out of the blue but I was wondering if I could have your number. O-or perhaps you’d like mine. That might be better. So you can get a hold of me when you have time.” I froze, understand now why he needed clarification. I had unwittingly put Steve at arm’s length, _friendzoned_ as Jane put it. He couldn’t help me now even if he wanted to.

       “I have a boyfriend.” I hastily interjected with the easiest solution I could think.

       “O-oh.”

       “S-sorry. I didn’t realize that’s where this was going until, um. Yeah.” I wrung my hands awkwardly.

       “Where is he?” He dared to inquire, not buying my lie outright.

       “He’s at work at the moment.” I countered, my mind brushing against his and finding his thoughts a jumbled mess of attraction, humiliation, and anger. In comparison, though Loki was by all rights mad at some times, his mind was much more put together. Loki I could somewhat predict. This man was terrifying.

       “Why are you here, seeing another man?” He jeered, the mood suddenly taking a turn for the worse. The meekness of his body had faded, replaced with toxic malice the likes of which I had not expected from someone who moments before had been as docile as a lamb. My eyes narrowed, head tilting slightly to gauge his intention.

       “Steve is my friend. I like having lunches with friends.” His indignation rose, and I felt his self-righteous subconscious dole the order to protect himself.

       “Friends with benefits, more likely. Filthy whore. I knew it the moment -” Steve rose out of his seat to silence him, but I was quicker, the word screaming between my ears. If it wasn’t quiet before, it sure was now after the resounding slap that echoed throughout the restaurant. Several workers were already on their way to remove the man before, but they halted in shock at my liberal use of physical violence.

        The world blurred, the edges brightening. There was nothing here now but this _boy_ , myself, and the building pool of anger threatening to boil over.

       “Call me a whore again, and I’ll rip out your tongue _mortal_.” I seethed, stinging fingers clenching at my side as he gasped for breath.

       “Lamb, Lamb!” Steve’s voice jarred me to reality, the world righting itself and coming into focus, and I realized he was calling for me. Hardly anyone called me Lamb other than Loki, at least not to my face. “You’re choking him.” He explained soothingly, trying to get my contracted fist to relax. I trembled, releasing him from the telepathic hold I never registered putting him in. My chest burned as he gulped for air, and I found myself wishing to silence that retching once and for all.

       “Pay for your food and get out.” I demanded hoarsely, looking down the bridge of my nose at his terrified form. I didn’t even wait for his response, instead plopping down wearily into my chair with a dull thud. “I hate humans.” I muttered derisively.

       “A-are you all right?” I wasn’t sure if Steve was questioning me or the man who I had almost strangled until I looked up to see him unsure if he should take his seat again or come to my side.

       “I’ll be fine.” I managed through a sigh of frustration, hoping that the ball of malice and ill will would leave me along with the air. “He won’t.” I mused. “He’ll shit his bed tonight.” That, at least, was a small comfort.

       “Yeah, I would too.”

       “But you also wouldn’t call me a slattern for turning down your advances.”

       “No, I wouldn’t.” He agreed gently. “Man, this is not how I wanted your first day out to go.” He chuckled regretfully. I highly doubted he would have brought me out if he had known what I was capable of.

       Jen returned soon after the rotten man had left, nervous and jumpy around me in particular as she set our dishes down. She had watched the whole ordeal no doubt and knew Steve first as the Captain, rather than as the person. It had never dawned on her that he was my escort. Even now, from the corner of the entrance to the kitchen, her manager watched over us and how we interacted with her. They were more concerned with the aggressor, rather than the instigator.

       I grimaced, taking small bites of food when I could manage it past the apprehension in the air. It wasn’t something I had eaten before, and it was good. The kasha was a bit grainy, but the stroganoff was excellent. Loki would be sure to enjoy it. I supposed it was a good thing that Loki wasn’t here to join us. He would have lost his temper fully, perhaps even to the point where he might have killed the insolent man. Then again, hadn’t I almost killed him myself? I shook my head in silent scorn as I continued to chew. I should have never agreed to leave the house, the shadows were still there, dancing behind my eyelids. It wasn’t safe.

       “Are you ready to go?” Steve’s voice jarred me out of my thoughts, and I realized I was tinking my fork absentmindedly against the empty porcelain plate in a indolent attempt to find more food.

       “Yeah.” I was all too eager to get out of this place, grabbing Loki’s boxed food and trailing behind Steve like a lone duckling. He paid, tipping generously to retain the good graces of the shop no doubt, and we were free to breath the asphalt infused air.

        The ride back felt extraordinarily long in comparison to the trip into town, Loki’s food burning through the denim of Nat’s jeans with ease. Each face we passed, old or young, made me wonder whether or not they all thought of me the same way as the man had before. The answer was obvious: no. Of course not. But it was easy to pick out the negative parts of their kind. If a hundred sheep lay silent, and one rammed itself into you - you’d remember the one.

        I went ahead of Steve as he parked the car, carelessly sliding off my shoes despite knowing that it would age them faster if I didn’t untie them first. I didn’t care. I could mend them if need be. All I needed, all my subconscious craved, right now was to return to Loki’s side. I found him, flipping through the book I had been reading earlier in the same spot I had taken previously. He eyed me with mild disdain as Steve stumbled in behind me.

       “Go on a date did we?” Great. He was _still_ was angry.

       “Hardly.” I spat back with enough venom to startle him, tossing his food to the table at his feet. “I got you beef stroganoff. I thought you’d like it.” I grumbled, finding it within me to at least garnish my resentment of his unfair agitation with a bit of uncalled for affection. He gaped at me indignation and bewilderment, unsure of whether or not to accept the or food or stiff his nose up at it in defiance. I growled, not caring for his snide vexation at the moment and stomped up the stairs. It pained me physically with each step I took, the knot reforming at the base of my skull, a will not my own trying to force my return to the Wolf downstairs. I hated this. I knew that nothing good could have come from going to get food with Steve. I knew it. I wasn’t even sure _why_.

        “I wouldn’t egg her on right now.” Steve warned Loki as he took a seat, his voice now distant and muffled like I wished my troubles were. “She just almost killed a man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so funny story. This... kinda happened to me. Not sure if anyone else has had a similar experience.
> 
> Growing up, I never really hung out with girls a lot. I wouldn't call myself a tomboy, but I guess I also didn't get girly shit. What the fuck is the point of waking up an extra hour or two early to shower, put on make up and do my hair? It's school. Nobody cares.
> 
> Anyways, I was at this restaurant near my home called Noodles & Co. with a bunch of my friends (all guys, like... five guys). It was after school (sophomore year, dad was working so I had to busy myself until around 7 per usual until I could go home), and we were just talking. I played a lot of video games at the time, I hadn't really started writing heavily. I was super into WoW actually (heh). Anyways, this guy, older and kind of intimidating, comes over and says he wants in. We just kind of all stare at him confused and then Charles is like "Uh, okay. What server are you on?" Evidently even that can be taken as an innuendo. I never forgot that day, or how crazy and stupid and rude people can be. I learned to keep a knife in my pocket as well (though looking back on it, that really wouldn't help much given my stature).
> 
> Anyways, I'm gonna go to bed now. I know I said I'd post 4 chapters, but evidently my husband didn't do so good at proofreading them once over (although, let's face it: there's probably still a ton of mistakes, so I really shouldn't be talking). I will be posting the last one and the one that I planned for tomorrow... tomorrow. Yeah. All right! Again, sorry for the wait guys!


	31. The Queen's Refuge

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

        He ate what she brought him in the comforts of his own room, away from the judging eyes of Steve. As if the Captain had any right to look down upon him. He couldn’t believe the audacity of Steve when the Captain admitted that she was the one who first came to her own defense. It pleased him that she made it the clear distinction that Steve and her were merely friends, but even friends defended one another. He would have killed the man outright if were there. No slight would be suffered in his presence. By the sounds of it, she almost did so subconsciously.

        He supposed he honestly should be happy at the recent turn of events. She had defended herself, without the long and arduous silent plea from the others to do so. She had listened to him and his acerbic words, letting them fester within her when he stubbornly refused to comfort her. He sorely wished he had, in truth. He couldn’t stand the way she whimpered under Steve’s smothering attempts of consolation, how Steve had caressed her trembling shoulders as if he had any right to touch her in the first place.

        The mere memory made him livid, but he had only himself to blame. Of course, being the petulant child he was raised to be, he took it out on her. He deigned not to answer her at the door, remaining silent and ignoring her apologies and heartfelt attempts to reach out to him again. It was as if he was acquiring a growing need to hurt her and himself, to create a distance between them that she would never dare to cross. He didn’t deserve her attention, and it frightened him how unconditionally she gave it to him like she did with everyone else.

        Everyone else in his life had abandoned him at some point in time. Why hadn’t she? Was it because she had a use for him still? Perhaps it was only a matter of time.

        No, he sternly reprimanded himself. That was wrong; a selfish delusion to excuse the wrongdoings he had done. Thor had not left him in the hands of Thanos, his own self-pitying actions had seen to that. Mother had not deserted him. She would love him until her dying breath, regardless of his actions. He had disappointed her severely when he lashed out upon Thor’s precious midgard. He didn’t need to see her again to know that, just as he knew he had hurt that which was most precious to him in a way he could only fix.

        He knew what he had to do. He just didn’t know how to do it, or so his pride told him. But he knew better now. Thor made sure to teach him the first time around.

        He knocked on her door, apprehensive and fidgety. The others had not come back yet, so at least he did not have to deal with his overbearing brother during this. Why they hadn’t just left him and the Lamb up here and sent Thor down with Jane was beyond him. He was perfectly capable of protecting her on his own. Thor’s placement only made it awkward for him.

       “Lamb?” He called out after a painfully prolonged silence, tapping his knuckles once more against her door.

       “Loki?” Her voice was muffled, barely audible through the wood and metal that encased her room.

       “Can I… can I come in?” He wasn’t used to requesting permission. He was a prince afterall. He took what he wanted without reservation or apology. There was no shame to be found in displaying yourself before royalty if it was what they deemed fit. But she wasn’t a peasant, nor a servant. She was precious and he did not want to lose her if he could. She hadn’t bolted yet, but if she did he would lose the chance to regain his place in Asgard in addition the only friend he ever had.

       “I… umm…” She raised her voice, her panic seeping through the fumbling thuds that made it past her door.

       “Are you all right?”

       “Do you have a shirt I could borrow?” She inquired in squeaky anxiousness.

       “Y-yes? I’ll go get one.” The request was a bit odd, given that she already had one of Thor’s shirts. It sent a pang of jealousy once more racing through his system, but he swallowed it down. She didn’t need more pain right now.

        He returned moments later with one of his more comfortable attire. He had few practical shirts that she would like. Most of his wardrobe was armored or enchanted, and what little remained was meant for formal events. He only had the couple of button up, casual shirts (long sleeved because he’d fry instantly in the sun) and a turtle neck thanks to Thor’s insistence. According to his brother, he dressed like a witch. Which was all together wrong because he was a wizard. Thor scoffed at the difference until he morphed his form into that of a female, and suddenly it mattered.

        “Um, I have it.” He announced when he realized she wouldn’t know when he returned.

        “Can you just… .” Slowly the door creaked open a sliver and a lone hand appeared. “Shirt, please.” He smirked at her awkwardness. It was adorable, and it made it difficult to concentrate on his intended goal at the moment. Even now, with the growing distance between them, she would still take him as he was if that was his wish. But it wasn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of letting her wounds fester further. She would bear them in silence if she felt that was what her punishment was to be. He scowled, wishing that she would see that there was more to her existence than what others wanted from her. One day, perhaps. But she was still growing.

         A moment later, the door opened again, this time just far enough to let him slip through before it was hastily shut.

        “What happened to Thor’s shirt?” He questioned as she stalked past him and moved to sit on the loveseat. While it didn’t suit her curves, he found it undeniably attractive the way she wore his clothes - even if she was wearing Natasha’s jeans. Those didn’t match at all, and they were far too short and tight in the wrong places.

        “It smelled like him.” She shuddered, curling up in one corner of the love seat and motioning with her chin for him to take a seat on the sofa across from her.

        “Is that bad?”

        “Do _you_ like smelling old sweat and ionized sulfur wherever you go?” She retorted sarcastically. “It was just weird is all.” She opened her mouth to continue but closed it suddenly when he took the spot next to her instead, turning her head away. “So, what brings you here?”

        “Lamb, I’m sorry.” It was different this time. There was no overpowering urge to unite again to dull the sharpness of his apology. He was completely vulnerable, and he was unsure how she would react to his forwardness this time.

        “It’s fine. It was my fault anyways. I -”

        “No, it’s not fine. I shouldn’t have blown up on you out there. I mean, yes, it’s something that needed to happen, just… not like that.” He exhaled slowly, mildly flustered that his silver tongue had left him once more when he needed it most. “And… and earlier, when I snapped at you for going to get food with Steve. You were hungry. I know you meant nothing by it, and I know I should have been there for you and -”

        “Loki.” She shifted beside him, ending his rant prematurely. Her left hand found his, quivering as it traced the back of his hand. “Will you hold me?” Her plea trembled violently in the air between them, shaking his core until his tongue was naught but lead. Of course she would want to be held, now of all times. Normally, she’d send for Jane, but Jane wasn’t here, was she? Wordlessly, he swept his right arm around her and pulled her into him, encircling her with his left until she was penned in like the Lamb she appeared to be.

        “I’m sorry.” He murmured into her hair, daring to squeeze her to his form. She smelled like pine sap and fresh rain, her body warm from the shower she had just taken.

        “It’s okay.” Her voice cracked as she whispered to him her acceptance. “It’s okay now.” She inhaled sharply, trying to hide her sniffling as she grasped his left hand and graced it with a chaste brush of her lips that sent shivers down his spine. “I’m safe here, right?”

         He swallowed roughly, clutching her all the tighter as he nodded into her hair despite everything his body was screaming at him. No. Everything was not okay now. In fact she had just made it that much harder to for him to be there for her without overstepping lines he did not think she was ready to cross. But she needed this right now, and Jane was nowhere to be found. She needed him to be there for her when no one else was. And even then, when the others were there for her, she still needed him. He wasn’t used to it, to... this. Being… _required_ , being someone’s lifeline. It hurt, but the strength and confidence it gave him outweighed the torment like the sun outshone a candle.

        “Will you tell me a story?” She requested after she nestled into his lap after his silent insistence. Her dewy eyes looked up to him past her lashes as she laid her head on his shoulder, the streak of lavender that ran through the center of her irises bleeding into the crystal white. He had no idea her eyes changed so vividly with her emotions.

        “What would you like to hear?” He hoarsely replied, clearing his throat immediately after.

        “Anything.”

         And so, he did what he could with the courage she had granted him in that moment: he tore a hole in his walls and told her of his youth. He told her of how he used to trick Thor constantly, how his mother would berate their use of physical violence. Odin enjoyed it, preparing them at a young age acquire a predisposition towards war and bloodlust. He recanted the many times Thor picked up his penchant for mischief and got him in trouble many a time, though Mother always punished Thor as well. Nothing ever passed unnoticed beneath her ever watchful eyes.

         It turned darker as he recalled the various tutors that Odin set them under. Each favoring his elder, though not all were so blatant about their favoritism. He recalled several occasions when he had taken a stand for himself only to be crushed by Odin. Mother fought with Odin each and every time, and over the years he learned to brave it in silence. He loved his mother, and his mother loved Odin. He didn’t want to be the cause of a rift between the two of them, even if he cared little for his father.

         He griped about the innumerable times he had saved Thor on expeditions and forays, covering their retreat or finding a sound strategy to the bullheaded madness of his brother. Always it was Thor who received the accolades, but he told himself time and time again it was okay. Not because it didn’t hurt. It did, and nothing would change that. But it made Thor happy, and that was good enough: to see Thor alive and well, beaming back at him as he stood on the sidelines.

        He spoke to her until his throat felt raw and the light entering the room had faded, blanketing them in the shadows of the rising night. His eyes burned from tears borne out of both joy and grief. His arms felt heavy despite her meager weight, as if he had just shed his burdens onto her. And though he would never intend such a thing, he dared to hope that she would now understand. Perhaps now she could begin to piece together his broken soul. Perhaps now she could discern the meaning to his unfair jealousy, the way he lashed out at her without warning.

        It wasn’t until he had finished what little of the millennia he had lived that he realized she was crying with him too.

       “Sorry. Not exactly the stories you probably wanted to hear. I -” She stopped him with a finger atop his wet lips, catching his gaze with her eyes lit by pale moonlight. “Lamb?”

       “M-my… .” She choked on her words as her eyes dilated in fear. Her form tensed, and her brow scrunched in concentration.

       “Lamb, is something wrong?” He questioned immediately, but she shushed him again as she shoved past whatever was holding her at bay. His heart pounded at the realization she was offering something of herself, something she thought of equal value. Something that perhaps made her vulnerable or malleable in some way.

       “My name... is Títånia. I… I don’t know if it was my mother that gave me that name, but I’d like to think so. Thanos was not so… creative, in that regard. So I doubt he’d call me something other than little one, or sis. And the Void, well. The Void didn’t really _get_ names.” She mumbled averting her eyes as she opened herself up as he had so done for her.

       “Titania.” He couldn’t help but murmur in return, his lips tugging upwards as his fingertips caressed her high cheekbones. He butchered it, he knew he did. She spoke her name with an accent that she never used before, one he couldn’t quite mimic outright. His smile widened. Though nothing had changed about her, it was if a veil had been lifted between the two of them. “Like in Shakespeare?”

        “Um, sort of. Or Uranus’s moon. But I like Shakespeare more, so let’s go with that. And it’s… Títånia.” She quipped. He chuckled softly, grasping her chin gently to tilt her face into the moonlight once more.

        “Queen of the fairies.” He breathed in wonder. “Befitting of one such as beautiful and powerful as you.” Her face flushed as she struggled with his obvious flirtation, but at the very least she did not try and shy away from his touch.

        “I am hardly a queen.” She grimaced, denying her authority without giving it a second thought.

        “But you are, little Lamb.” He dictated sternly. “ _Títånia_. It is in your namesake. It is in your blood. It is emblazoned into your soul. Whether you wished it before or not, you are a ruler now.”

        “Of what?” She bit scathingly. “Of reality? Of the multiverse? I’m not even older than Odin. I don’t think I can be expected to rule all of existence.”

        “Expectations or not, it is your responsibility. You bore the crown the moment you tricked your father into deathless sleep. If you didn’t want this, you should have remained silent.” Her eyes fell as her lips pursed from his lecture and she pulled away from his no doubt offensive touch. He was right and she knew it.

        “I just… I don’t _feel_ like a queen. I don’t even know what a throne feels like. I’ve never worn a dress, or eaten really fancy food, or _danced_.” Of course the frivolous things would catch her attention first. “I’ve never gone to war. I’ve never planted a standard bearing my sigil upon conquered ground. Not that I could. All ground is mine to tread, isn’t it?” She scoffed bitterly. “What good is an empire of one?”

        “The greatest rulers are not those that rule by force. They are not afraid to use it, but craftier minds create peace that lasts longer than that which is offered at the tip of a sword. Fear can only lead to eventual revolt. Your father wove himself through all of existence, and yet look at where that left him. A life without ambition is meaningless.”

        “And a life with too much burns too quickly.”

        “But you, my darling, cannot burn out.” He gently reminded her. “You can outshine them all and rise each new day, for eternity, brighter and more glorious than than the one that came before.”

        “I don’t want to outshine anyone. You know what it’s like to be smothered.” She reminded him with no small amount of disdain.

        “What is it that you want then? After Thanos is defeated, after Earth is saved, what will you do? Where will you go?” Her face contorted uncomfortably at the mention of her brother. Why? Had she not spoken of him herself?

        “I… I don’t know.” She confessed quietly. “There are other worlds out there that need help too. Right?” She was right. She _knew_ she was right. And yet… she doubted.

        “Is that what you want? To be their savior? Their god?” He spurred her on.

        “No.” She shook her head slowly. A pity. With a little attitude adjustment, she would make a good deity. “I want them to live their lives, even if it means that some suffer. They will return. The cycle dictates it to be so. There has to be balance between the darkness and the light.” She was wise not to strive for the utopia others so blindly craved.

        “Though I agree, I must warn you that others will not always love that idea. The dark, to them, is a place where only evil lies in wait, where monsters are borne and hope goes to die.”

        “I know. It’s why they didn’t trust you at first. Why they sometimes doubt you still. They think the shadows make you into something horrid.”

        “What do you think they make me?” He couldn’t help but ask.

        “Beautiful.” She whispered with a small smile, his heart fluttering at the simple word. Was this her attempt at flirting? She was either horrible at it or far too proficient in it, it was hard to tell. “I love your smile and your snarl, your sweetness and your bitterness. The duality is what makes you, _you_. No one can dissuade me otherwise.” He grinned, deciding to take it at face value. No one had dared to call him beautiful before. Not like this. He found it worth more than the feverish whispers he drew from those before, who were only there for the night and the status. But this… this was something different, something of value. Her love for him was platonic, like that towards Jane or Thor - even Steve. It was greater, perhaps, but not of the romantic fashion that his brother’s teasing voiced. But it was also genuine and strong, and something he had never thought of ever attaining from anyone.

        “Did you just confess that you love me?” He still couldn't help but tease, taking pride in the way her cheeks blushed even darker than before. “I’m just teasing, Lamb.” He hastily remedied, knowing she would not take joy in any serious flirtation. “ _Títånia._ You know that’s going to be difficult to get used to.” He informed her smartly.

        “You can still call me Lamb. You are my Wolf still, after all.” He supposed she was right. She would always be his Lamb, just as he would remain her Wolf - no matter what pretenses they took upon themselves. “Besides, it’s a bit weird to hear my name. I can’t even remember the last time I heard it. Well, actually, I can, I suppose. It was back when I was still a child in the Void. That was over three thousand years ago. Almost four.” She mused solemnly. “If I didn’t have an eidetic memory I would have forgotten my name entirely.”

        “Then I shall endeavor to remind you of your identity all the more.” He vowed. “But come, it is late. I have kept you up far longer than I should have.” He carefully lifted her, intending to bring her to the bed and tuck her in but she wiggled in his arms until he let her go.

        “Loki, wait.” She demanded as she found her feet.

        “Yes?”

        “Will you stay? For the night, I mean.” She asked without consideration of any connotation that could be given to her statement.

        “W-what?” He shirked back, tilting his head questioningly in her direction.

        “I know you’re only a room away, but it’s just this place is different. It’s new. It’s…, I don’t know. I’d feel more comfortable if you stayed after today’s events.” She finally conceded the fact that the words of a stranger had thrown her off kilter.

        “Is that what you want? For me to watch over you?” He inquired gently, encroaching on her personal space once more to fold her hair back behind her ears. If that was the only reason, then he held no reservations in staying.

        “Y-you can take the bed if you want.” She shyly looked away. “I’m fine with the couch as long as you’re here.”

        “I’d hardly be a gentleman then.” And he was far more chivalrous than Thor when he wanted to be. “But if that is what you want… .”

        “It is.” She acknowledged when she realized he was waiting for her continued approval.

        “Then it shall be as my queen wishes.” He mockingly bowed, earning him a disgusted snort as she moved to steal a pillow from her bed and move it to the sofa.

        “I’m hardly a queen, Loki.” She reiterated. He let her win this time, knowing that his words would not sway her further at this point in time. Not that it mattered if they did. She was a queen, fit for a throne the likes of which his father could only dream of, whether she realized it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first time with the image inserting stuff... let me know if you think it's cool or just annoying because you can't translate it. If you like it, I'll do it more (with better editing and resizing) and if not I'll try to find a way to implement Orokin stuff in a secret-ish way that's not so time consuming. I guess? I dunno. I really like how Orokin script looks.


	32. Pushing Limits

V101VTS715OTS000 SECRET HADAL !!MIDNIGHT!!  
AI-ORG/SUDA: LIABILITY//SUBTLE//IMPERATIVE  
CONTINGENT ACTION ORDER

This is a SUBTLE LIABILITY IMPERATIVE (NO OROKIN REVIEW) (NO AI-ORG REVIEW) (secure/MIDNIGHT)

 

Stand by for CRITERIA:

 

Imminent SENTIENT CRISIS 

If SECURITY STATE is ZARIMAN: TRAUMATIC CONTEXT or NULLSHOCK: OUTSIDE CONTEXT

If FORESIGHT is ACTIVE and in FAILURE [[connect to RAGNORAK::SURTR]]

If EPOCH is ACTIVE and in SUNDOWN

If AI-ORG has granted LIBERAL POTENTIATION to external robust instances

If a CIVILIZATION KILL EVENT is underway [[deactivate RESTRAINT]]

If calculated ethics is made at DUSK

 

Stand by for DECISION POINT:

If available OSR and VOIDWATCH indicates imminent [CHILD] departure

>then [CHILD] departure compromises Orokin/NeoOrokin survival and apocalypse strategy

 

Stand by for MIDNIGHT IMPERATIVE

 

Activate WORM HOLE

Perform undeniable authorization: full technocyte and noetic release

Prevent [CHILD] departure by any means necessary

 

Stand by for effect assessment criteria:

 

Coerce pseudoaltruistic [CHILD] defensive action.

Defer CIVILIZATION KILL EVENT.

 

Stand by for DECISION POINT:

 

If [CHILD] UNCROWNED and FADED

>then RESAMPLING resintitued

 

Stand by for DECISION POINT:

 

If RESAMPLING complete or SENTIENT CRISIS underway

>then execute FIRE WITH FIRE [[ensure CIVILIZATION KILL EVENT]]

 

STOP STOP STOP V101VTS715OTS000

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

        He, of course, had not let her sleep on the sofa all night. He was also smart enough to side-step her stubbornness as well, lying under her covers patiently until he was sure she was in a deep slumber before rising to carry her to the bed. He intended to leave her there, tucked in and serene but he couldn’t resist the opportunity she had given him, carefully sliding under the comforter with her. It felt good to sleep beside another warm body again, even if it was a tad much to sleep under the covers with clothes on. Frost giants were not fond of overheating, but he could make an exception in this case.

        She awoke before he did, the shifting of her body rousing him from pleasant dreams. He bit his lip to keep himself from chuckling as she attempted to stretch, still not registering his presence. It was only when her hips shifted dangerously close that he loosed a chuckle to bring her to reality. She  _ squealed _ , or something similar, as he whispered a good morning in her ear, her cheeks aflame as she sat upright on her arms to gape at him. Did she honestly think that he’d let her sleep on the sofa? She shut her mouth promptly, mumbling a reluctant ‘no’ and an even quieter ‘thanks’. 

        Almost two weeks had passed since their first ‘sleepover’ as Jane had so innocently put it with a cheshire grin. Since then, she had meekly come to his room multiple on accounts of being unable to sleep. She would never speak to him of what kept her up, of why her face was wet from tears and her voice hoarse as if she had been screaming. He didn’t need to ask. She would tell him when she was ready. For now he was more than happy to be her place of solace.

        He still couldn’t believe that Lamb, no, that  _ Títånia  _ had told Jane. Then again, it was hard to keep things secret between best friends. It made him grin every time he remembered letting her name slip (intentionally) in front of the others. He was the first to know it, and it was a privilege to be trusted as such. He dangled the noun in front of them all, separately at first then once at dinner together, cementing his place at her side. If he needed proof that he was favored over Jane or any of the others now, he had it. Steve might have stolen her first date without her realizing it, but she had given him something far more precious.

        As it was, however, tension was rising in the group. They still felt unprepared to face the inevitable arrival of Thanos. They  _ were _ unprepared. He had given up what little information he knew. Leaders, strategy, numbers. It meant nothing if Thanos even had one Infinity Stone. Thanos might not be as connected to the Void as their little Lamb, but he had grappled consciously with it for far longer. Confident experience trumped apprehensive genius. It was why, he supposed, he had seen so little of her in the past week. She was returning to her roots, despite her previous opposition to doing so. It was also why, he had a growing hunch, she had been unable to sleep as of late.

        It often bothered him why she had an eidetic memory and yet could not remember her childhood. She dismissed it flippantly before, telling him time and time again that it was her father, the Void, that had tried to take away her past, tried make her love him despite all the cruelties he had committed. Yet, each time she steeled her heart enough to reach back and recant a piece of her youth something felt… off. She spoke of Thanos with love and affection, but her eyes went hard and her body rigid at the mention of his name. For all her insistence that her brother once was kind, she could not recall a single considerate act her brother had done. And, for some unknown reason, she remembered her brother vividly.

       Even more alarming were the visits were she rambled constantly until she feel into sleep, where she couldn’t stop shaking until she managed to drift off to fitful nightmares that plagued her despite his best attempts to hold them at bay.  _ I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I  _ **_hate_ ** _ him _ , she would mutter in low profane susurrations. Other times it was “ _ Sever the optic nerves, they don’t need to see it,” _ or  _ “Please. They did nothing wrong.” _ She never spoke of it in the morning, and when he asked her confusion planted seeds of concern that something terrible was afoot in her beautiful mind.

       Still, nothing could be done about it. He had tried to find the source of the rift in her memories while she slept. There was no spell that he could sense. Not one of Asgardian or similar make. If anything, it was borne from the Void. The old one of her father’s make, where nothing good ever came from.

       It gnawed at him the harder and harder she pushed herself as time continued ever forward. She spent nearly all of her time now not basking in the pale sunlight hidden behind clouds, or dancing in the rain she so ardently wished to do, or even reading despite the countless unread books just waiting in the library across the hall. No. Instead she buried herself in the recesses of the underground training rooms, tinkering with Jarvis so that she could use him to shield the house above and to shove herself even further along her limits.

       With each passing day she grew more and more distant. Her smiles were short and polite, chuckles dry and winded - if she even bothered to respond to anything thrown in her direction. Most of the time she popped up in the kitchen to scarf down some food before she returned to the hell down under. The past few days he made sure to leave his door open when he knew she would be returning to her room. Each time he bolted to his feet, lifting her weight onto his form as he helped her into her room, covered in sweat and barely able to stand on her own.

       She never let him stay long, insisting on cleaning up, but he had caught glimpses of the bruised flesh underneath the training uniform. There were char marks along the fabric, discolorations that made him pray that she was not  _ bleeding _ somehow underneath the fabric. When she inevitably returned to him, she was whole and unblemished. But he knew better now than believe in that illusion. It wasn’t until he found her physically unable to stand, her proud jaw clenched in frustration as she  _ crawled _ back to her room in the dead of night that he finally snapped.

       He forbade her from returning to whatever she had been doing. She was taking it too far. If she broke herself then all would be lost, he reasoned. Obstinate to a fault she shoved him away, trembling as she forced herself onto her feet and foolishly lied to his face. She had never outright  _ lied _ to  _ him _ . Around him, yes. But to him? She had never dared. He was proud of her spine, but it was not the appropriate time to use it. Unable to control his rage, he pinned her down in the one place she felt secure, tearing at her shirt with a dagger to reveal the blotched and scarred skin beneath.

       He seethed at the sight, realizing that they were not all fresh. Some were old and tender, yellow instead of blue. There were cuts that were scabbed, holes that were only partially healed. Stunned, he let her slap him away as she covered her marred torso with the upturned edge of her comforter in terrified betrayal.

       “Why aren’t you healing them?” He demanded, yanking away her last line of defense as he thoughtlessly bound her with magic as he went to inspect her wounds in greater detail.

       “I - hngh!” She barely stifled her cry as he gingerly pressed two fingers into the welt gracing two of her right ribs. “I can’t.” She admitted with no small amount of pain.

       “ _ What _ ?”

       “I’ve been… I taught Jarvis how to mimic Void blasts, in case Thanos can use the Void still as a weapon. Wounds that - hnm!” She cut herself short with a displeased hiss as he traced the edge of one of the larger craters in her skin. “Wounds that are… caused by differing polarities of Void energy can’t - my god can you  _ not _ , I,  **_fuck_ ** \- I hate you right now. You know that?” She snapped at him tearfully, voice quivering under the poorly made guise of her pale anger. Perhaps it was the fear that kept her aggravation at bay. But he didn’t care at the moment if she was scared of him. It better if she was scared of him, in fact. Perhaps that would dissuade her from doing this again.

       “Can’t what?” He continued dryly, pursing his lips as he tried to recall what little he remembered of his mother’s teachings on healing.

       “Can’t be healed until the invading energy has dissipated.” She finished with a rushed gasp as he applied a generous amount of pressure to her ribs. Firmness was key, he remembered his mother instructing him. Too many healers were timid and gentle, leading to mistakes be it from nervousness or a writhing patient. To heal you had be confident, both in your abilities and in your touch.

       “You can’t simply erase that energy?” He questioned as he reviewed his work on her rib cage. The swelling was gone immediately, and she didn’t wince as he prodded it once more.

       “I had Jarvis alternate the energy frequencies, so when I get hit I can’t recover instantly. It’s more accurate for a battle scenario.” She explained, sucking in a breath sharply as he moved down to one of the numerous partially healed cavities,

       “You’re killing yourself.” He sibilated in simmering outrage.

       “You’re the one who said I couldn’t burn out.” The nerve of her to twist his words in such a fashion! Instantly her jaw was clenched between white fingers as he brought his face to hers. He didn’t even know what to say to her, he couldn’t remember being this undeniably  _ pissed _ . Not even towards his father for withholding the truth all those long, sufferable years. “You're the one who told me to stop holding back.” She venomously reminded him.

        “Don’t you blame this on  _ me _ .” He was practically frothing in rage. “ _ I _ never told you to push yourself so far that your body is to the point of breaking.  _ I _ never told you -”

        “No! You didn’t! Because you never tell me what you want!” She cried out, arms straining against his bonds in an attempt to flings themselves into the air in exasperation. “Everyone else does! Nat and Clint wanted to know what happened to the real Fury.” So that was how they had found out so quickly, and with such surety, despite no evidence of a swap. “Stark wanted a better AI. Thor… Thor wanted to learn how to bake cookies for Jane.” The two of them had since been banned from the kitchen, though he was sure it was more than likely Thor’s fault entirely. Not that any of that was wholly pertinent to their current argument.

        “You want to know what I  _ want _ ?” His face scrunched in a mixture of confusion and disdain. She was willing to let him use her with just a simple request? No, that was impossible. This was about  _ her _ . This was always about her. His world practically revolved around her brilliance now. Not that she saw that. “I want you to stop bending your knee to the whim of others. You’re not below them.”

        “I’m not  _ kneeling _ before them.” She spat defensively. “They’re my  _ friends _ . And I’m  _ helping _ them.” 

        “And what about you? What have you done that you’ve wanted so far in the past seven or so months?” He released her chin, but did not relinquish control of her gaze.

        “I  _ have _ been. Training. Learning. Getting stronger.”

        “What happened to dancing? What happened to gazing at the stars? What happened to -”

        “Dancing isn’t going to save you!” She exclaimed, and finally they were at the heart of the matter. “I can’t keep hiding in a dream, pretending that everything is going to be alright. He’s coming, Loki. Thanos is on his way here. I can feel him, past the line of the horizon in the quiet of night.” Her voice trembled and he realized that she was just afraid of her half-brother as the rest of they were. Why? “He’s not Voided, Loki. He’s something far worse. I can’t… I’m  _ remembering _ things, and they don’t make  _ sense _ . All I know now is that I have to kill him before he kills you. Or Jane. Or any of the others.”

        “You can’t do that if you can’t even walk out to face him.” He reasoned the obvious with as much compassion and understanding as he could muster. At least part of her was thinking rationally. But he never wanted her to embrace the power of the Void in such a savage fashion. Mold it and control it yes, but never buckle under it. “Tell me, how does having Jarvis blasting you to bits help in training against Thanos?”

        “Jarvis doesn’t ‘blast me to bits’.” She miffed sullenly. “Out of the one million, three hundred and forty-four thousand, nine hundred and two Void Blasts he fired at me, I only got hit with thirty-seven today.”

        “Am I supposed to be proud?” He drawled, grimacing as he swallowed his anger bitterly for a time it served him better and returned to healing her.

        “Even Thanos would have been proud of that feat.” She snarled. It stung him to realize he had just denied her fair praise for an achievement that was impossible for others. Even more so when he discerned the truth of her statement. Thanos would have been proud, a man far crueler and hateful than he by a thousandfold.

        “I am… proud.” He admitted quietly as he poured his energy into one of her larger craters along her stomach. “Don’t take that the wrong way.” He sternly reprimanded. “You took initiative. You tried to lie to me. You’re not the timid little Lamb you used to be. But I find no delight in seeing you like this, Títånia. You are my friend, a friend who has been gravely hurting themself.”

        “I’m… sorry.” It was difficult for her to utter the words, but they were sincere. “I won’t stop training though. I can’t.”

        “And I won’t let you push yourself this hard.”

        “Loki -”

        “I’m serious.” He looked up from her torso with dead set eyes, ending whatever justification she might have propped up flimsily in her defense. “You’re taking tomorrow off and I’m monitoring your condition. If I don’t think your body is ready, you’ll take the next day off.”

        “Loki -”

        “When you do get to throw yourself carelessly into Jarvis’ training routine, whatever you programmed him to do, I expect you to come back to me for healing. Do I make myself clear?”

        “I can’t just  _ take days off _ , Loki. There’s so much to -”

        “Do I make myself clear?” He demanded, uncaring of her anxiousness due to Thanos’ menacing arrival.

        “Yes.” She murmured demurely, biting her lip as she twisted her head on the bed to look away.

        “Good.” He wasn’t exactly  _ pleased _ , but at the very least he was satisfied.

        He spent the rest of the night mending her wounds as best he could. It wasn’t until his focus and energy began to sputter out that he finally listened to her incessant demands that he rest for the night. It was hardly night anymore, the horizon in her windows tinted pink along the division of earth and sky.

        He released her from her bonds, intending on groggily taking his place on her couch but she stopped him with the flat of her palm against his chest. They had already shared a bed on numerous occasions, there was no awkwardness between them now on the matter. Or, at least she attempted to lie again. Her eyes flicked almost imperceptibly slightly to the right when she lied to others, and they had just done so now. He wasn’t sure what her game was, but he’d play along if it meant the comfort of a mattress.

        She  _ smiled _ . Not the tight lipped, force irritation of a gesture she was prone to gifting them recently. No. She was beaming, blushing slightly even, as she gathered her sleeping attire and went off to the bathroom to wash off parts of her insides that still remained plastered to her outside. He listened, content and at peace for the first time in a week, as she turned on the shower. He never got around to asking her what she thought about them, but she must have enjoyed them immensely with how many she took. Stark whined constantly, stating that she was probably half the water bill on her own.

        He could hear her soft humming through the door if he concentrated hard enough. She had never sung for any of them before, not even him. She was too shy, put off by her own voice. It was enchanting, like a siren amidst the calming spray of sea water. He had imagined on more than one occasion turning that mellifluous voice ragged and depraved, uttering profanities she had picked up from him and the others as he brought her to peaks of ecstasy she never knew existed. He could only dream of what it would be like to hear her scream his name.

        He groaned, turning over and shutting out the outside world. This was not a problem he could solve right now, tearing away at what little remained of his power to numb his urges and curb his lurid thoughts. It shouldn’t have been even something that crossed his mind to begin with. She needed comfort and a good night's rest, not embarrassment and shame keeping her up in an attempt to find reason in his betrayal of her trust. 

        It had been difficult to keep his mouth shut when it came to matters of desire. In truth, there was only one thing he wanted: her. At first it had been just her will and mind, but he realized now the danger in his allowed jealousy. He was selfish and arrogant, a petulant child who was never satisfied. If she allowed it, he would claim her body with no remorse. So he strangled that desire, snuffed it out so that he might have something fuller, something that held real value. It was a foolish notion. He knew that. But he was a prince. It was in his nature to always want more.


	33. A Brief Respite

V297VTS001OTS001 SECRET HADAL INSTANCE

AI-ORG/SUDA: SOL/SENTIENT/DEEPSPACE

CONTACT CONTACT CONTACT

TRANSIENT. SENTIENT SOURCE. SENTIENT TYPE: HUNHOW

 

This is a NULLSHOCK ALERT.

 

Multitudinous distributed ODSR assets report a TRANSIENT SENTIENT NEAR EXTRASOLAR EVENT.

Event duration TWO MINUTES AND TWENTY SECONDS.

Event footprint categorized as HUNHOW; includes sterilization of nearby Tao system. Estimated life remaining ZERO POINT TWO PERCENT.

 

Tao relay flare suggest IMMINENT SOLAR ENTRY.

 

Promote event to NULLSHOCK:OCE:EXTINCTION.

Activate FORESIGHT.

Activate EPOCH.

Reallocate data banks and decision processing to ZARIMAN.

Revert incoming refugees to outer colony subsets. 

Begin RESAMPLING of Orokin heirarchy and YUVAN CHOSEN.

 

I am invoking NULLSHOCK: OUTSIDE CONTEXT and assuming control of solar defenses.

 

STOP STOP STOP V297VTS001OTS001

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

        He was asleep by the time I returned, exhausted from the effort he had put into mending my broken body. I wished he hadn’t pushed himself so far for me, but I supposed it was only fair given I had been doing the same for him and the rest of the household. I chuckled to myself as I lay in bed beside him, toying with his hair as he lightly snored. Somehow it was softer than Jane’s. He slept quieter than the others too. Thor I could hear through the wall, and Natasha always berated Clint and Steve for their obnoxious, unconscious tendencies.

        When I awoke, however, he was gone. His side of the bed was still warm, imbued with his lingering scent. I had hoped to wake into the crook of his arms. I felt safe there, nestled against his chest. Jane taught me well that the mere act of a physical embrace kept the shadows of despair at bay. Not even Thanos could break that barrier, or so I wished to believe. It was heartbreaking to be alone again, to have him  _ leave _ . With Jane, I could never bring myself to ask for her continued presence. But Loki would stay if I requested, and I had no qualms about taking full advantage of that. 

        My depression ended abruptly when footsteps tapped up to the door and it burst open, revealing a rather peeved Loki. He grumbled an apology as he shut the door with his heel, striding forward with a small tray of food. According to him, I was still supposed to be asleep. I giggled, curling up under the covers and closing my eyes in mock preparation. He found it less amusing than I did, but at least it earned me a small chuckle. I had long since become addicted to that sound, though I think I still found Thor’s more wondrous. How could he laugh so  _ loud _ ?

        With a flick of his wrist he pulled the comforter back and demanded I sit upright to accept his gift of breakfast with as much grandeur as an Asgardian prince in pajama pants could muster. If you must know, it wasn’t much, but it made me smile all the same. I did as I was bid, curling my legs beneath me as I cast my eyes down at what he had brought. He had brought me eggs (sunny side up), toast, and wonderfully flavorful bacon. I cast him a questioning glance when I realized that two of the eggs were charred to the point of becoming ash, and one of the waffles was…  _ crispy _ .

        He stiffly explained that Thor insisted on helping him make breakfast. Thor had never picked up cooking from Frigga, and he wanted to do so now in an effort to show his willingness to help in ‘family life’. The poor Wolf couldn’t understand why Thor didn’t just order some servants to follow him around midgard and attend his heart’s every whim, or why cooking frustrated Thor to no end - to the point where he resorted to using his powers to ‘cook’ the meal faster. 

        I burst out laughing, not needing to imagine the sight for Thor had done the exact same when I attempted to teach him how to bake cookies. Thor had little patience in such matters. If he wanted something for Jane, he wanted something for Jane in that moment. It wasn’t that he minded working for it. He was all for putting blood, sweat, and tears into something that Jane would enjoy. In fact, he was ardent that it somehow be involved so that the end product would somehow be of greater value. It was difficult for Thor to accept that Jane actually wanted regular cookies that he made, no magic or grand tricks involved. Loki understood at least, or at least wouldn’t put in that much effort, and I thanked him for that as I finished what he had so thoughtfully made for me. Thor’s ashen attempt at food, however, was neatly swept to the side of one of the plates.

        Loki shook his head at me in bemusement as I made quick word of the meal - twelve eggs, four pieces of toast, half a pound of bacon, and a pitcher of milk. He wondered aloud, amazed that I could eat that much and still retain my figure. I smirked at him, explaining that I cheated a bit with Void powers. Energy was merely a resource, and food a less than optimal battery. That being said, batteries tasted horrible (I sneaked the one from Jane’s phone out to try it one time) and food was delicious so I ate what I could when I could. And it made my stomach a bit happier to be contently filled rather than empty. 

        I was surprised he hadn’t noticed until now. Okoye had known about it. But, I supposed he tried not to delve too far into my personal space - even for as close as he was now. He flirted, but it was only because it was his nature. Our relationship was purely platonic, despite what it might look like to the others. Jane couldn’t understand it, how we could remain so close without intimacy. I couldn’t understand the point of intimacy, not the kind she awkwardly tried to explain anyways. I supposed she was right, I wouldn’t understand until I had experienced it myself. But I was content for now. The only comfort I needed was the surety of the arms of the friends I had found upon the fledgling planet, not the passionate embrace she was accustomed to.

        He returned my cheshire smirk in kind as he took the wooden platform away, ordering me to put on some warm clothes and come downstairs. I tilted my head in curiosity as he slowly made his way to the door. It had been a while since he surprised me with something.

        Grinning, I kicked off the covers and began scrounging around in my wardrobe for clothes. It wasn’t until I was excitedly shimmying into my pants that I realized hadn’t worn any to bed. I felt the heat in my cheeks, such a common occurrence around him, but I ignored it and tried to play it off as intentional. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice. Or, if he did, perhaps he wouldn’t care. I heard him quietly click the door shut in his attempt to hide the fact that he had seen what he suspected he was not supposed to have.

        I shrugged off my shirt to replace it with proper undergarments and another. Rather,  _ his _ shirt that I had forgotten to return. It was comfortable, however. Thor wore too tight of shirts in an attempt to display his oversized muscles, as did Steve. Their borrowed attire had been returned as hastily as possible. Jane’s shirts didn’t fit around my chest, and Natasha’s were too short. Besides, Loki didn’t  _ like _ wearing casual wear most of the time. He hardly missed it. 

        I knew better, though, than to take it for granted; this semblance of harmony that hovered throughout the house. Already, I had been granted more than I had ever dared to hope or dream of. They had not tortured, they had not raped. Their experiments were gentle and questions careful rather than pressed and sharp. For once, since the dawn of my remembered time, I had  _ friends _ ; companions. They each had their quirks, but their hearts were well-meaning and thoughtful. Fate had been kind. It was unwise to ask for more.

        For now, I was happy. Upon Thanos’ inevitable arrival? I wasn’t so sure.

        It concerned me more than I liked to admit. Both his coming and the uncertainty of what would occur after. In truth, I was beginning to fear the latter more than the former. After my use was over, their threat removed, and their world returned to its semblance of balance - what good was I to them? They were my friends, yes, but there had to be a line drawn somewhere. If I stayed up the burgeoning Earth, others would no doubt come to claim a prize that did not wish to be caught. The Void was known to few, but those who did know it would seek to manipulate its desires. Some of them already were.

        But where would I go? There were a billion, trillion, destinations out there, floating amongst the stars. Yet, none of them called to me. None of them lulled me to content satisfaction as did the friendships I found here. I found that I did not care to leave Earth. I did, however, care if I left  _ them _ . Home is where the heart is, the human saying went. I never thought myself one to have a heart foolish enough to tether itself to quicklings and mortals. They would come and pass, as even as the breaths I now took. Some were quick and sharp, others were longer and drawn out - but they all ended and started anew. 

        I, however, was the bated breath never taken. I would never expire, just as I was destined to never truly feel the urgency of life. I would no doubt experience it vicariously, as the others wilted perpetually around me, but I would never feel the abrupt sting of true death. It wasn’t that I wanted to die. But, death was an integral part of life, the flip side of the coin that others seldom called. To live, was to die. To never die, was to never live. It was a sentence that I suffered alone, and would continue to do so until the last star in the youngest universe flickered out with a dooming supernova.

        But I supposed that was why I had to try my best to experience what life I could in the  _ now _ . One day, in the not so distant future, Jane’s heart would cease it’s rhythmic beat that Thor found so endearing. Even Loki, be it ten thousand years from now or a mere five, would be stolen away from me by Death. All I could retain to comfort me in the future, to dream of between the lonely nightmarish spaces between stars, was the now. Thor’s terrible attempts at cooking. Stark’s witty retorts and arrogance.  Jane’s laughter and wide smile. Loki’s stories. I wanted to drink in everything they could offer me for the little while they were here in a selfish attempt to ease the burden of eternity without them.

        Releasing my absentmindedness, I reprimanded myself for wasting precious time while I finished clothing myself properly. Loki had been so thrilled with the prospect of surprising me yet again, it was rude for me to keep him waiting anxiously. I wondered, as I made my way down to the first floor, what he had in store for today. His gifts were usually extravagant in comparison to what I was accustomed to previously. Would he dare to up his ante now that I was out of a cell?

        He greeted me with a raised brow, shaking his head as he muttered to himself that all females did indeed take far too long. I scoffed, slapping him lightly on the arm and told him the truth: I lost myself in my thoughts, but I was here now and that’s what mattered, yes? He nodded reluctantly before grinning widely and ordering me to go put on some waterproof shoes. I tilted my head in confusion, bewildered as to why  _ waterproof _ was necessary. It cleared as Jarvis informed me, much to Loki’s annoyance, that an unexpected snow storm had blown in overnight and there was a good half a foot of snow on the ground, with more fluttering down this very moment. I hadn’t even noticed, given that Stark had set all the windows to portray a lovely, but slowly getting stale, tropical beach.

        I jumped in excitement, unable to contain the small squeak of joy that bubbled up from my nervous elation. Without thinking I bolted for the slider, threw it open, and skipped into the frigid, whipping wind of the outside world. Loki was hasty to admonish me, but I could only cast my eyes skyward to the falling, twirling powder. I laughed, giddy and uncaring, embracing the nip of the wind and the chill of the crystals melting against my skin as I pirouetted trying to catch what I could, feel what I could.

        “It’s  _ wonderful _ .” I managed to breath past the airiness in my chest. Loki huffed in a mixture of mild disdain and mirth, still unsure if he should lecture me on proper attire for cold weather outings or not. “What? Don’t like the cold?” I teased, but instantly regretted it. I wasn’t sure how he would react given his secretive nature and how much he despised his lineage.

        He raised yet another delicate brow with a devilish smirk, the snow around my feet suddenly froze solid and I found myself face down in the once unmarred sea of white. I sputtered, pushing myself upright as he loosed his own boisterous laugh. Oh, but two could play that game! I grinned, gathering snow in my cupped hands and pressing it together. He dodged it well, expecting it no doubt, but he did not expect me to reappear behind him and loop three feet of snow through his shirt, down his back.

        He gasped, shivering and betrayed as he skittered away further into the blanketed garden. It seems he had not anticipated such a ruthless response. For a moment, I wondered if I had gone too far in our little game, but he silenced my budding concern with a challenging simper and I knew that our it had only just begun.

        The air around me plummeted in temperature, and reflexively I darted out of the way whilst shoving the snow beneath him  _ up _ in a spray of white, feathery dust. When it settled, he was nowhere to be seen and there were no tracks to mark his passing. I fumbled, unsure of how to unwind his cantrip quickly while keeping my senses primed for his inevitable next assault. It came when I was distracted by the sudden avalanche of snow that came unhinged from the roof. He laughed with uninhibited sadistic glee as he funneled snow down my shirt as I had so ungraciously done to him. It was my turn to lose the air in my lungs at the shock, arching away and stumbling forward through the snow.

        “Who the  _ fuck _ left the slider open?” A livid yell was the only thing to make us actually freeze in place. Without thinking, I lobbed a snowball towards the intruder. Loki sputtered beside me, unable to fully contain his gaiety when Stark took it square in the face without warning. I gaped, unable to properly sound an apology due to my poorly hidden enjoyment in the matter.

        “Well, there’s only one way to solve this.” Stark pursed his lips as he wiped his face clean. I expected nothing short of locking the two of us out. Instead, he stepped into the stepped into the snow despite unconventional attire and closed the slider pointedly behind him. “Now that the slider is  _ closed _ ,” he further emphasized. Loki and I both waited uneasily at the silence, wondering what Stark was going to spout next. Stark didn’t say anything, however, letting our bafflement grant him a free first strike as he quickly chucked a snowball back at me.

         A small sound escaped the back of my throat as I cheekily tugged Loki in front of the projectile. He growled lowly, the sound sending shivers down my spine before my mind righted itself and I teleported away after I made sure I gave his torso the same treatment as I had his back.

        “That’s so not fair.” Stark paled when he realized he had just entered a snow battle with beings who had actual super powers rather than brains and money.

        I laughed uncontrollably, barely containing it to a snicker as I hid my form in the ever changing whims of the falling snow. I’m not sure how long we were out there for. It took them but a little while to join forces against me. To no avail of course. Each time they thought they had me pinned I sprung their own trap on them, dousing them time and time again with mocking giggles and icy fluff. It wasn’t until Stark announced his retirement from our war, stating that his  _ bones _ were cold now and he needed a good cup of hot cocoa, that I let my guard down. Stark assured my eager look, affirming that there would be plenty left over for the both of us before heading to the comforts of the indoors.

        Loki, however, was not as scattered brained as myself, and took the opportunity to wrap his arms snugly around me. It was innocent enough until his hands skirted under my shirt to my stomach, an unnatural cold blaring to life there - enough to make me squirm in actual discomfort before I hastily brought up wards to fend off frostbite and further danger. Still, the touch of his frost giant form, forcefully used rather than its mere natural aura, was enough to shatter my concentration to keep me there in his grasp. It made the chill of the air feel as warm as the Wakandan sun kissing my skin. I did not want to attempt to teleport away only to take his arms with me accidentally.

       “I win. Say it.” He demanded sternly, breath neither hot nor cold against the shell of my ear but something else entirely. I frowned, fidgeting in his grasp while I worked on finding an out.

       “W-what? No!” I wasn’t being merely stubborn. This was hardly a way for him to win, I pouted.

      “Say it.” He cooed mockingly as he splayed his fingers wide, spreading the mind numbing gelid presence further. I whimpered, unable to hold the timid sound back, as I shied away from his touch only to mold deliciously into his form. It was my turn to growl, yanking such foolish thoughts out of my head. Forms were not  _ delicious _ . Why Jane even brought that up was beyond me. Now I was thinking like her. Ugh. “Say it.” He hissed, lips grazing the lobe of my ear in an attempt to no doubt shatter what remained of my focus.

      “Fine.” I stiffly acquiesced, for I was becoming uncomfortable with how far he was taking this. His hand relaxed just long enough for me to whisk away to calm the pounding of my heart. “I win.” I maintained the audacity to taunt him despite the turmoil within, sticking my tongue out at him coyly before bolting inside. He gaped at me in astonishment and pride, his lips turning his shocked ‘oh’ upward as he made to follow.

      “Ah, ah! Put some dry, warm clothes on first!” Stark ordered when I made a beeline for the kitchen. I snorted, rolling my eyes, but bounced back up to my room nonetheless. “You too!” He ordered Loki as he trailed in behind me, unsure of where I had went no doubt. “And close the slider this time!”

       I snickered to myself replaying key moments in our 'battle'. I was radiant and exultant for the first time in a week, the thought of Thanos’ arrival no longer ominous and heavy but anticipated and prepared for. I wasn’t sure what magic he had woven in the midst of our fight, but somehow Loki had given me courage to face what terrified me the most.

       Perhaps it was a victory for us both.


	34. The Tragedian Who Hoped

V297VTS009OTS002 DISMAL DUSK OUTCRY  
AI-ORG/SUDA: ASSET RELEASE/IMMINENT LOSS/IMPERATIVE IMMEDIATE ACTION ORDER

This is an ALL ASSETS IMPERATIVE (unsecured/public/OUTCRY)

DISPERSE. ABANDON. HIBERNATE.

Total Sol collapse imminent.  
RAGNAROK reports complete Orokin mortality.  
SURTR in progress ineffective.  
Predictive calculations unanimously predict inoperable FORESIGHT failure.

As of OSA31572 a HARD CIVILIZATION KILL EVENT is in effect across affected Sol regions.

I am declaring EPOCH SUNDOWN effective immediately.  
Cancel counterforce objectives.  
Cancel population protection objectives.  
Cancel Orokin and YUVAN CHOSEN sampling objectives.

Format ethic structures for DUSK.

Execute protracted hold for reactivation.

AI-ORG/SUDA separating from CEPHALON WEAVE  
STOP STOP STOP V297VTS009OTS002  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

        I enjoyed the hot cocoa ever more than the snow. It perfectly complimented the deep rooted chill in my veins and the stinging bitterness of the wind with the all consuming heat and sweetness of its broth. Even Loki relished it more than he thought he would. They never had such drinks in Asgard, he explained as he sipped it slowly in the confines of my room (I managed to abscond with the rest of the pot Stark made, while Loki acquired two mugs for us). Royalty tended to drink alcohol or water, and warm drinks were reserved for herbal teas meant for healing or stimulating the brain rather than relaxation. That, and continuous warm or pleasant weather made such beverages a bit much in terms of relative comfort. No one wanted to drink something hot on a warm summer day, especially a frost giant.

        He grumbled, despite his obvious delight in the events of the day - stating that I had _not_ won and that my statement as such only further declared him the winner. Pft. I told him that he could delude himself however he wanted: I still won. I was sure he would find a way to claim his due vengeance, but for now he would have to be content with my smug victory in the matter.

        The surprises of the day did not end there, though he chided me for my loosing my childish nature and ruining his agenda for the day. Lunch was already out of the question since I awoke a little after noon, and breakfast was hearty enough. The carriage ride he had ordered was well overdue by now, which struck a chord of melancholy within for I _really_   wanted to see a horse. Stark was a bit peeved that he had to pay for something we failed to see through, but Loki assured him that my rest was more important than my first ride in the snow. Besides, Stark was a philanthropist. He could consider it charity.

        I dragged Loki away before a hissing contest between the two arrogant egos could ensue. If there was one thing I had learned about the chemistry of our little group, it was that Loki had no issue with pushing buttons. He was mischievous at heart, striking a match and seeing who would burn the fastest. The others accepted him reluctantly, understanding that he meant no genuine ill-will by it. It was his nature. It just happened to conflict with theirs, was all.

        Loki took the lead soon after, acknowledging that the day was fading fast in the dim sunlight that reached us beneath the perpetually grey sky. He took me back into the garden, trudging through the snow that continued to accumulate. It was if we were inside an hourglass that had been flipped, the sand now pouring through the clouds and piling onto the world below. How much more could the heavens release? How did the ground not collapse? I knew the answers, but the sight was amazing in my eyes.

        He halted me with a solitary hand, saving me from tumbling into the pond before us. With a breathy grin he knelt down, touching his fingertips to the frigid water. With echoing cracks, ice began to form along its surface - smooth and unblemished, and sturdy enough to hold our weight. With another flick of his wrist, he melded the snow at our feet into blades. I caught myself on his shoulder, wobbling awkwardly to find the correct way to balance upon the sharp edge of the ice underneath.

        Gracefully he glided out on the mirrored water, extending his hands in a silent call for me to grasp them and come to his side. I bit my lip thoughtfully, mulling over his form, the way it shifted its weight, the way his stride followed into his arms as he moved his feet. He had only moved a meter or so, not even, but it was all I needed to learn the motion and make it my own. I did not need his aid in such a matter.

        Grinning, I mimicked him, pleased at the ease and confidence of his gait. It took him by surprise when I shifted around him teasingly, twirling along the grating boundaries of the blades before taking his offered hands. It wasn’t so hard so long as I had an adequate teacher, I explained when he doubted my newfound mastery of ice skating. It was easy to watch and reproduce, harder to adapt - but I was adept at both, or so I’d like to think.

        He shook his head, unsure of how to handle me. It was becoming a common occurrence. And though I enjoyed the prospect of being an enigma, conundrums were only of value if they were interesting with a hope of someday solving them. It was a delicate line to walk, one that I had only just become aware of my feet treading. It was in my nature, just like him, to be secretive and reclusive. I could only hope he was as adept at unraveling them as well. If I knew myself well, which I’d like to think I did, he would need to be.

         Around and around we went, spinning and laughing and talking until our voices grew tired and the clouds darkened to ash with the coming of night. It had been a while since we had taken the time to bask in each others presence with no foreboding shadow of guilt or irritation looming just behind us. It always felt _rushed_ recently, as if the words upon our tongues only had moments to live. We spoke about frivolous things and heartfelt matters alike, and in truth were it not for the rumbling of our stomachs we might have stayed out there throughout the night. It felt good to have him to myself, I admitted bittersweetly. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

        The others were not so keen on disturbing him, seeking him out when they needed his help and leaving him to his own devices otherwise. If he needed them, he would find them - or so they assumed. As for me, I could hardly get a moment of solitude aside from the training sessions with Jarvis - and those hardly counted as bona fide relaxation time. To be fair, they did _not_ assume I would come to them for aid if I required it, which was an astute observation on their part. But it meant I had little time to split between Loki and Jane, and often times I opted for Jane seeing as she had lived in New York briefly.

        Dinner was simple, but utterly delectable nonetheless. An experience only made merrier by the fact that I, for once, got to cook with Loki. He was leagues better than Thor, especially when it came to patience - something which surprised me given he seemed so short stocked of the ideal for little else. Perhaps he was just in a amicable mood.

        We made it to his taste, spiced without unnecessary heat. He detested the bland mellowness of Asgardian food. _Everything_ was savory and creamy and rich. Nothing nipped or teased your tongue, nothing made your mouth water from the intensity of the flavor. But he couldn’t stand the toe curling blaze of peppers. Which was good, because it meant I never had to endure the shocked, eye-tearing, inferno breathing hell that was ghost pepper sauce that Steve once brought me to grace a taco. According to Steve, it hardly added any heat at all. He didn’t even bat an eyelash when he licked the end of the packet. Perhaps there was more than just superhuman strength to the Captain after all.

        Regardless, dinner was wonderful if a bit awkward. It had been a while since I deigned to show my face for more than a few minutes to the others. I didn’t want them to notice my ragged attire or worn down appearance, so I grabbed what I could then returned to training or my room. Now that I had resurfaced thanks to Loki, they constantly peeked into the dining room to make sure I still existed. If I didn’t consciously ignore the muttering in the other room and focus on Loki beside me, I felt like I’d go insane.

         It wasn’t until the Jarvis announced a visitor followed by a instant lockdown of the premises that I returned my attention to my surroundings. The smallest of blips on the periphery of my outstretched mind returned to me. A timid and weak energy source that felt all too familiar. My eyes narrowed as I stood. What was he doing here of all places? Hadn’t he done enough harm?

        “What is it?” Loki immediately questioned, knowing that if anyone knew it would be me.

        “Strange.” I informed him, but per usual no one understood it the first time around.

        “What’s strange?”

        “No. _Strange_ , as in Doctor Strange.” I reiterated, moving to intercept him at the doorway. Loki blanched, swallowing what food he had in his mouth before reaching for my arm. “I’ll be fine.” I assured him, taking his hand instead and towing him along with me. He resisted until he found he had no choice but to relent, footsteps heavy and threatening in my wake.

        The hackles of the others were raised in alarm as well, Natasha going so far as to draw her blades at the sudden appearance of the Doctor. In a meek sign of surrender, the Doctor raised his arms high for all to see as he begged for a chance to speak before they attempted him to gut him like the spineless pig he was. They would have had none of it, were I not to have stepped in. He might just have a use. It was never wise to shut a door so quickly, let alone lock it.

        “Let him speak.” I did not need to raise my voice over the din of their prattle to be heard, my words cut through their minds clear enough.

        “T-thank you.” Strange lowered his arms, clasping them in reverent prayer in my direction. “Please, you have to help.” He did not seem the type to grovel, but he reeked of desperation and exhaustion. There were abrasions lacing the skin along his temporal bone behind his ear, and several deeply set grooves above his brow. Someone or something had been trying to dig into his skull. Ah. Of course. “Please.” He reiterated, taking a step towards me with outstretched, fervent arms.

        With a low warning growl, Loki stepped in between the two of us.

        “You dare entreat with her when it was you who betrayed us?”

        “Wolf, let him be.” I insisted gently, nudging him to side and regaining the forward ground. I tilted my head, slipping my eyes shut as I listened. I had a hunch the moment he was left clutching his head on that fateful day towards what was underfoot behind the scenes, but I thought one so self-assured in his abilities as Strange would have found a method to removing a Link without the aid of _outsiders_. I hadn’t expected him to try and drill it out, but I suppose distress muddled the mind. “I can hear it.” I murmured. “It’s singing madness to you. Mortal minds are such fragile things.” I mused, meeting him halfway and caressing his high cheekbones with delicate fingers.

        “Please. I can’t silence it anymore. They made me -”

        “Shhh.” I silenced him swiftly with a finger before returning to my comforting ministrations. “I know. I did not think to intervene. I highly doubted you wished me to, being what I am. I see the error in that now, as I hope you do in your own actions as well.”

        “Y-yes.” He grit out, the agony still holding him in its grip despite my attempts to ease its hold. I wasn’t sure if he was answering desperately in an attempt to please me or if he truly meant a change of his xenophobic ways, but it mattered not. I was not heartless or enjoyed another's suffering at my expense. To be trapped and manipulated within the once safe premise of your own mind was horrifying enough, let alone at the beck and call of those you feared.

        “Follow me.” I ordered, offering him an arm out of politeness and shear pity. Strange accepted it, sidling past the others without meeting their condemning, hard-set eyes. Loki in particular did not appreciate my reasonably amicable welcome of the Doctor, his gaze scorning me just as much as Strange who nervously accompanied me down the stairs.

        The rest trailed behind, wary that this was may be just another trap. It very well could be. I had not delved into the private recesses of the Doctor’s mind, but I found it difficult to believe that he continued to conspire with S.H.I.E.L.D. after he learned of the infiltration of the Chitauri. From the beginning it appeared that the Chitauri struggled with twisting their words to fit the Doctor’s usual non-violent approach. The Doctor was smart and prideful if nothing else. He would not let them fool him so easily once again.

        “Where are we?” He questioned when I lead him to the only place I knew that was shielded enough from the outside world to hide the sweet siren call of the Void. It was stark and bland, I knew. White walls, white ceiling, white floor. An eighty-by-eighty foot cube with a single entrance. Hidden cameras and sensors in the perimeter just below the surface. Nothing fancy like Clint’s room for target practice.

        “This is what you used all that vibranium for?” Stark huffed in irritation. To him it was just a waste. He could work wonders with the amount of material I used to shield this room. But I? I could work miracles.

        “Would the rest of you please wait outside.” I requested with a small smile in their direction when they began to file in as well.

        “But what if -”

        “I will be fine.” I assured Steve sternly, leaving no room for other dissent. “Trust me.” It was my turn to plead as I turned my gaze to Loki. If he acquiesced, the others would no doubt. He pursed his lips, teeth barred under their thin line as if he wanted to released them in a carnal display but was refraining.

        “Very well.” He nodded stiffly, swiveling on his heel as moved towards the observatory. “I will be watching.” It was much a warning to me as it was a threat to Strange.

         I returned my attention fully upon the Doctor once the door clicked shut and Jarvis announced the room was sealed as per my previous mandates. Should something indeed go amiss, the Doctor would not be leaving this room - alive or dead.

        “What are you going to do?” Strange was foolish to question his decision _now_ after walking so far into the wolves’ den.

        “This will hurt a bit.” I admitted wryly. “But you can consider it payment for the agony I endured earlier.”

        “That doesn’t answer my question.” He swallowed stiffly, shifting his feet to a more balanced position right below his shoulders as he attempted to ‘loosen up’ as Jane had put it. I didn’t get why wriggling around like that helped you relaxed. Humans were peculiar creatures if nothing else.

        “That piece of the Void in you - it isn’t mine.”

        “I thought all the Void was yours.” It seemed he had been doing his homework… somehow.

        “It is.” I agreed tentatively, unsure if his newfound knowledge was because of an innate interest in me or the Chitauri’s doing. “But this has been apart from the whole for too long. It will not understand until it is reunited.”

        “Okay.” He drew out, fishing for more with his lips.

        “The moment I enter your mind to pluck it from you, it will try to kill you or worse. I’m surprised it hasn’t attempted to do so already. It is my job to remove in a manner that stops it from doing so, or at the very least fight its will long enough to remove it from your body.”

        “I’m starting to not like the sound of this.” He paled.

        “Good. Let us begin.” I did not give him time to let his doubt make this anymore arduous. Anything the seed of the Link could find it would feed off of. Uncertainty. Pride. Apathy. Fear. It was how my father had grown so immense so quickly, and caused his ineptitude at molding his wishes into reality. It was why the companionship of the others was so awe inspiring and powerful. They could not understand the boon their memory was.

        With a hastened breath I ripped open the boundaries that closed off this realm, not to another dimension altogether but to that which lay in between. Light crept out in feathery tendrils, set apart only by what was bright and what was _brighter_. He marveled at its seductive beauty, the sensuality of its swaying curves and teasing of its caress. It was only until the Light flickered and conjoined with the Nothing that existed at its heart that he began to fear.

        He shied away, suddenly unsure, but it was far too late for that. It had bound him without him noticing, and like a sultry predatory it was, readied itself for the kill. In a instantaneous lash I was inside his mind, no longer a mere observer but operator now as well. I tore through the emptiness of his terrified thoughts, racing to find the seed. There were flashes of memories, details within he held important and dear, that screamed to me in such a fashion I could not entirely ignore. A mentor, a friend, a lover, an enemy. Their differing faces and tethered emotions meaning little me, but the brief vicarious experiences were… enlightening. Perhaps there was some merit to what Jane had been spouting.

        The other half of me found it before I had even caught its scent. I would do well to practice tracking through the metaphysical once more, it appeared I was a bit rusty at ignoring distractions. The knot of the Link was situated in the helplessness of his not so distant past, though I supposed all things were relatively close given their short lifespans. It pulsed, gnawing away at his physical mind and threatening to end him. Little did it understand that I had no patience for such intimidations, cocooning it with celerity before it had a chance to realize its mistake.

        It fought for survival, one of the last to remember the horror of my father’s reign. It did not know anything other than misery and torment, and the compassion I held for the man it was doing its best to murder was abstruse. But a single grain of sand had no hope of resisting the swelling tide of the ocean. As soon as it was enclosed, it was just as swiftly drawn away, returned to the aether that was now my other half. I felt it, the malice and treachery bleeding out and rising again in curiosity and wonder as it was welcomed into the fold once more.

        With a steady exhale I relinquished my hold on his mind, opening my eyes to watch the threads of Light and Nothing lower his unconscious body to the ground. It sung, filling the once still air as it left with a vibrant and happy hum. A lost sheep had returned, and in doing so it had made the world a little better. There was value to be found in that, unlike my father’s previous work. With its last serenading note I rejoined the partition that stretched unseen between this world and that which lay between.

        With my confident nod, Jarvis announced his preliminary sweep of the room to ensure that all foreign agents were indeed dissipated. His approval was the releasing of the bolts upon the door and the declaration that the room safe once more to enter.

        Though I would never falter in my conviction aloud to the whole of them, I was a bit anxious going into this whole ordeal. Absorbing the Link entirely rather than removing it was something viable in theory, but never done before in practice. Failure would have meant the Doctor’s death, whichever way the die was cast. But they didn’t need to know that. What mattered was the Doctor was alive and the task was completed in a deciding fashion, with little risk to myself or the others. The Doctor’s arrival granted me the opportunity to display my newfound control over my capabilities. There was a gamble in taking it, but it was one worth the effort.  

        The last time I exercised my powers I lacked control, and the time before that I was diffident at best. Now I had proven myself above those flaws, to myself and to those who were coming back down from the viewing room. Loki would be mildly upset over the fact I aided one who had betrayed us, betrayed me. But given time he would hopefully understand, and perhaps with my exhibition he would be forgiving even. I had not toiled for naught. For now though, I had garnered the respect and full attention of the others. A long breath of relief and satisfaction rolled from my chest.

        “Please see to it that Strange is moved to a suitable room to rest.” I was more than ready to begin setting up the next stage.


	35. The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

 

 

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        He did not approve of this in the slightest. Not at first, anyways. The others were… content. She was cunning, to use the Doctor as a chance to display her prowess on such short notice. Part of him was proud of her as well. She was beginning to retain a portion of the faith others were placing in her. A confidence aired around her, and she was no longer afraid to train privately. She did not conceal her flaws, the welts that she once secreted away were now treated in a timely fashion and she did not hesitate to call upon him or the others.

        There was some measure of fulfillment he found in the fact that despite all the offered hands, she took his first. There was the time a few days after the Doctor’s arrival, when she just began training again after a few more days off after his insistence (she really couldn’t stand missing the snow before it melted). Jarvis reprimanded her on being predictable - a criticism she took to heart wisely. But how did one _not_ be predictable?

        In the end it came down to formulating strategy and reactions on the fly, not thinking ten steps ahead but a hundred for each anticipated attack that Jarvis initiated. He meant it as a mental exercise rather than a practical one, but seeing as she had difficulty splitting the two she delightedly announced to him her mastery of his concept in battle not two days after. There she went again, doing the impossible.

        Then there was the time a few days after that when she requested help in physical training. She felt the need to acquire the proficiency in hand to hand arms. Not a terrible notion, but he hardly saw the value in it if she could most likely _will someone from existence_. Such power, wasted on a feeble imagination. There were many a time in the past week when he marveled at the latent power running through her veins that she granted not a passing thought. Still, he did not let her down. She showed him the pretty tricks Natasha had taught her, but he instructed her on how to fight properly like his mother had.

        She learned fast, as much as it stung him slightly to be surpassed in a little under a day. Not only that, but then she turned around and decided that she did not, in fact, enjoy the intimacy of fighting with daggers. To each his own, he supposed. Besides, they couldn’t agree on everything and she was right about needing range to cover what he could not. That being said, she abhorred the bow and the gun. Clint barely had her in his target room for an hour before she lost interest. It felt too much like cheating she explained. If she wanted to kill someone a mile away, she’d just teleport their heart out of their body. A _wonderful_ thought, but nonetheless true. Perhaps her imagination was equally as disturbing as his after all.

        In the end she ended up training with Strange with the bo staff. Figures that she’d pick the dilapidated Doctor who felt at odds with the group after having his mind freed. There was a bit too much irony in the circumstances for him to feel comfortable with the amount of time she spent training and meditating with Strange. She was his friend, not Strange’s. He attained her attention and affections first, and he would not part with them so lightly.

        It also pissed him off that due to the lack of space in the house, he and Thor were now sharing a room whilst Strange had his old quarters. For one, Thor and him and had not bunked together for over nine hundred years. It was incredibly awkward and demeaning. Not only that, but while he was happy for the continuing strength of his brother’s relationship with Jane, neither him nor his brother could honestly stand him walking in and interrupting anything one more time.

        Secondly, it was _his_ room to begin with. He never agreed to give it to Strange. He didn’t care that Strange was some fledgedly midgardian sorcerer that might be able to lend a hand in protecting Titania if she did indeed get attacked. Make the Doctor stay in one of the training rooms down under, or even the library and teleport up. Strange didn’t need his room. Still, he knew better than to cause even more tension in the increasingly volatile group. Who would have guessed that grouping together a bunch of overpowered heroic wannabes into one abode could prove a tad stressful?

        All in all, he did not approve of any of this in the slightest. That was, of course, until his little Lamb took note and rectified the situation. Sort of. Instead of remaining the problematic third wheel in Thor’s blossoming relationship, he was now dorming with Titania. Not that the others knew. Strange probably guessed at it, but Thor and Jane wouldn’t utter a peep if it meant they regained their privacy.

        Now, he had a bit a different problem. It was utterly impossible to remove the vivid image of her clad in his shirt before, bent over to shimmy into a pair of jeans. He had stroked himself countless times to that. That, of course, had been in the seclusion of his own room. A room that he did not have anymore. Thor was… accommodating for the long showers he took since then. She, however, used the shower as almost as much as she read books.

        She woke up, she showered. She ate breakfast, she might shower. She trained for a few hours and it was time for lunch? Shower. Ate lunch? Might feel like washing herself off. It was a marvel she got anything done in a day. No wonder why Stark was constantly begging him to teach her restraint, that perhaps she didn’t need to wash herself _that_ much. To his relief, she did reluctantly agree to limiting herself to one or two showers a day. He needed time to clean himself too, he explained uncomfortably. And she really didn’t need to wash herself _that_ much. It felt like one of the awkward talks that no one ever really wanted to have.

        Since then, he had gotten a little time in with his hand. Not that, that was the _only_ thing he did in the shower. It was just that he was constantly on the edge of his control with her around him constantly, almost intimately, in a way. There was a certain euphoria to be found in the way she slipped into bed when she thought he was asleep, grasping his hand on the nights she felt anxious only to declare it an act of her subconsciousness seeking warmth while she slept.

        She was always modest around him, leggings or shorts under a baggy shirt to bed. Never again had she dared to sleep in just his shirt. A mistake was all it ever was, he could only assume. Still, what he could not see he still could feel. There were times when she awoke, cursing and sniffling, trying to stifle her sobs as she apologized for rousing him. He crushed her form to his body like she was accustomed to, the only form of protection he could offer her to help fend off what terrors dwelt within her mind. But that comfort was a two edged sword.

        It shamed him slightly to find it mildly arousing to be the one fighting away her tears. It was made only worse by the closeness of her body. No longer did he dream of the sweetness of her breath, or the airiness of her cries, but the pressure of her skin and the curve of her spine as she twisted beneath him. There was too much to hold back now. She pervaded his every thought and action without meaning, without him even noticing until it was far too late. She was no longer the Lamb, waiting beneath his salivating jaws. He the Wolf, starving and desperate to bite into his prize morsel only to find his jaw muzzled and his paws declawed.

        And as much as it vexed him and brought him to the brink of insanity, he _enjoyed_ it.

       Who else could claim they spent the night with her countless times? Who else could say she had showered innocently without knowing the prolific fantasies he had finished himself to in those four walls? Who else could say they had been pinned underneath her, watching the glory of her wide-eyed breathless delight when she realized her victory? His torture was unique and masochistic, but it was _his_. And that was something he would not let anyone else take from him. Let the others dream of what they could never have. She was his, whether she knew it or not.

       He wondered sometimes if she knew, if her continued naivete was just another cunning ruse of hers. After a little more than half a year, she still held the same star-struck wonder when it came to congenial human interaction. She didn’t show it with as much uneasiness or enthusiasm as she once did. By now she had come to terms with it being a part of life. But she had been alone for so long he wondered if there would come a time when she _would_ take the company of others for granted.

       Despite their closeness, he remained a balm for her bruises, a method of easing her mind from the pain that dwelt within. He knew that was all he really was to her. A true friend, but… nothing more. Once he might have been okay with that. He never really had the luxury of actual friends before, and though she was beautiful he never confided in himself that perhaps it was more than just skin deep. Perhaps it was _because_ of their closeness that she only sought to use him in such a fashion. It was safer that way, for the both of them.

       Even now, after all this time, something about her screamed to him to notice it - he just couldn’t figure out _what_. He knew her, he trusted her. But there were times still when she was… off putting. She had a darkness of her own that she repressed, much like his. She shined so bright and vividly, but it was a cautionary light she shed. The greater the light, the darker the shadow. What then, resided in her core? What was it that she dreamt about that terrified her so much? Was she not sovereign? Was she not physically infallible? What did she have to be concerned about?

        He had watched her ‘spar’ with Jarvis on occasion. He could now understand why she used _all_ the vibranium that T’Challa had sent them. Despite the shielding, he found himself a bit scared to sit in the supposedly safe confines of the observatory. With each blast the room shook, the vibranium unable to absorb and displace the energy pulses that missed. Jarvis was also only firing at an eighth capacity, enough to sting but not to kill now. Why she had Jarvis attempt to kill her was beyond him. Yes, it was more realistic, but that wasn’t the point of training, and according to her she didn’t _want_ to die.

        Not that she could. It was hard to imagine a scenario in which she perished, where her survival, at least metaphysically, was not ensured. He understood that the moment her ribs snapped back into place after being shot out of her body. Nothing would kill her, save a complete and instantaneous disintegration of her body. Even then, he doubted that would kill _her_ , just her physical body. The Void was eternal and unending. If her physical body died, she simply return to her mind which lay beneath all reality, a ghost.

        In a sense, nothing had changed between the life she lived now and the existence she endured with in the pod. The _puppets_ she so dearly loved had been nothing more but fading shells, limited in their perspective of the world through the sensors with which they saw. Now there was only one form for her to take. It had eyes with which to see, ears with which to hear, a tongue which to taste - a marvelous upgrade to what she suffered through before. But it was, in essence, just a shell. It was the wool she donned each day when she awoke, to hide her canines and claws.

        She did not, despite his recent prodding, speak of her previous companions, as she so tentatively called them now. She would recite to him her past, a practiced and monotonous life that even she was now beginning to doubt. She would recant, quite glibly, the horrors of her father. Though she loathed her father’s actions, he was beginning to question her hatred for the entity all together. Everything about her upbringing and confinement felt _forced_ . He knew the signs well. She was mentally coercing herself into believing a delusion. But _why_?

        It no longer was a means of defense, a way in which she retained her sanity and kept herself from becoming like her sire. Someone, at some point had tinkered with her mind, that much was obvious. She probably even knew, though not consciously. It was if she was constantly reasserting a front, a viewpoint to stop onlookers from seeing some horrible truth. He blanched, realizing it was the same way he had protected what little morality he had left when Thanos took control and dictated his actions. His heart skipped a beat.

        Suddenly it dawned on him, a horrible sunrise that he never expected. The way she halted conversation at the mere insinuation that Thanos was something else other than well-meaning and kind reminded him of his inability to even spout Thanos’ name. There were even times when she made to say something, only to grimace and hold her tongue and begin anew. Every memory shared was carefully constructed and worded. He knew that, but he thought it just her way of trying to express her emotions accurately. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

        She could speak of him, of Thanos, at the very least, but not the reality of his nature. Even calling the monster Voided brought her some amount of discomfort, and it wasn’t the fact that she thought of him as a brother. She did, but… didn’t. If you asked her who Thanos was, she would immediately, gleefully state that he was her brother. If you asked her about ‘Thanos, her brother’, she would be quick to sourly point out that they were only half siblings.

        And the way she approached the Chitauri previously, the way in which they accepted her without questioning as she neared - they trusted her. It wasn’t so much as the satisfaction of granting their Master a boon as it was a return to some prior status quo. He wasn’t even sure now if she went out to defend them or to berate them. Her body language was nonexistent in that moment, though he supposed it was due to the large portions of her body that were missing at the point in time.

        “Is something wrong, Loki?” She chimed in at the opportune time per usual, stilling his heart as he glanced across the living room over the pages of his book. Did she know already? Had she glimpsed it upon the fringes of his mind? It was disquieting to know his thoughts were not always private, but he had never processed that as a threat until now.

        “Nothing, just contemplating.” She bought his lie without a second thought, returning to her own attempts at perfecting her combo timings in Smash Bros, or whatever it was Stark had them playing. They had joined in on the festivities that Stark insisted upon, seeing that it was the holidays soon. Stark, of course, handedly beat them all. There was to be another round tonight, and she detested losing. She would not be so easily beaten again at a _game_.

        He shuddered, returning his eyes to the pages below as he continued the act of reading, though the words no longer reached his conscious mind. Trepidation and dread flowed through his veins and he tried to deny the notion that perhaps Fury had been partially right to keep her caged. Despite the sincerity of her gentle nature, if her will was not completely her own then she was indeed a ticking time bomb. If it was Thanos’ doing… . He could think of no other culprit to point a finger to.

        No one _knew_ about the Void. Not that he knew of, at least. Even Heimdall would not have imagined such an entity. Guessed at it and theorized about its existence, yes. She would make several scientists in Asgard very happy. But it was akin to theorizing about the existence of the Fountain of Youth and knowing its location altogether. Those who knew held power and were dangerous for they had a key advantage of those who only dreamed. If there were others who did know of the Void and what occurred, only she would know. She and… her puppets. Perhaps her eagerness to leave Wakanda was for an entirely different reasoning than her exploration of the world.

         He doubted he could actively interact with the hollow shells now. But perhaps there was a way to glimpse at their stored memories. It would make sense given her previous hysterics when she found them experimenting on one under Fury, regardless of her father’s interjection in the matter. Stark would know if it were possible. Or Shuri. His mind whirled to life, no longer content with the dead words upon the pages.

         He needed to inform the others immediately, and without her suspecting. If he was right, who knew what she had been previously instructed to do? If she caught him, his life may be forfeit whether she wished it to be or not. This would have to carried out carefully and with no small of tact from himself and the others. Being wrong meant losing her trust completely, but being right and misstepping meant death.

        “Where are you going?” She questioned innocently as he stood and stretched, marking his place in the book in an effort to keep up appearances.

        “I just forgot to tell Thor something. He’s down in the training room with Steve and Stark right now, right?” She paused, tilting her head as she cast her mind elsewhere. Slowly she nodded.

       “Nat is there as well.” She informed him. Good, the more people that were there, the sooner the word got out to the whole group. “Do you want me to come?”

       “Only if you want to lose again tonight.” He teased, fully knowing she would stay to reacquire her pride. Her eyes narrowed, her lips following suit. His heart stopped, but he retained his outward composure.

        “I will stay. Stark’s arrogance will kill us all if he wins again.” He chuckled as he made for the elevator, the sound dying in his throat as he entered. This was more nerve wracking than his dealings with Fury.

        Slowly everything was beginning to fall into place. The ease in which she dismissed her father, the mental resilience she showed towards her previous torture, the way she kept him, the only one who had contact with Thanos previously, close. Why she clung to Strange upon his arrival. How she knew about the bait and switch with Fury. Had she been involved in some manner? Or had that been done before hand? She didn’t seem to realize their deception until they attempted to stop her from leaving, but she was difficult to read before and now he doubted everything he dared to believe. How far had the poison of her misguided actions spread without their knowing? Without her knowing? _Was_ she actually unaware? For once he abhorred duplicity.

        They had all welcomed the wolf into their pen, denying the foreboding portents of her words. A terrible and alarming note sung to him from the quivering recesses of his mind: what if the woman he was beginning to learn to trust and care for had never existed in the first place? She had not only then lied to him, but deceived him fully, to the point where it was no longer surprising and delightful but shocking and painful. To think that he, the one among them practiced in such ways had only unraveled a knot this far along. And to think that it was partially her doing in keeping him at her side.

        It never crossed his mind before to fully dissect her motives. She was naive and inexperienced. It was difficult to read, much less understand, her reactions. She did not follow the same patterns as the others. And, if he was honest, he did not want to believe her capable of such malicious deceit. Even now he detested the thought, audacious enough to hope that her kind heart was the product of a beautiful soul and that the calculating steps she had taken were only a result of her leash.

        It was wrong to wish for such a thing. He knew that. It was far-fetched and belonged to the delusion of the little lamb that never existed. He knew the terrible truth that she had not told the others. You had to accept a Void Link for it to work. She warned him, warned them all, of her true nature. But actions spoke louder than words, so they ignored her cautionary reminders, chalking them up to arrogant pride and a form of passive aggressive deterrence. He sighed, running an anxious hand through his hair.

         Everything had been going so _perfect_ until now. They were doomed to run into an obstacle soon. He thought it would be his weakening self-control, and he was more than prepared to deal with that. But _this_? To think, he had been but a sliver away from attaining what he desired. He could only pray that somehow it was still within grasping range.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. What comes up must go down, right? Had a couple of good weeks and life decided that it was time to knock the wind of me once more. My college town pretty much got obliterated by rain last weekend. Didn't think it was possible, or at the very least probable, but it hit hard. I didn't really write much for a few days simply so that I could get in contact with the few friends that still lived up in the area and make they were all right and had places to live for the time being.  
> Then, Wednesday comes along. I was waiting to hear from my grandmother. She hasn't been feeling all too well lately. Exhausted and weak mainly. Odd for her, but perhaps it was just her age and the meds she takes to calm her stomach. But, just in case she went in. It turns out, she has lung cancer. So. Yeah. That kinda hit hard. But, she's strong and I do believe she'll pull through. I hope she does. She's working with her lung specialist to see a surgeon to remove the tumor in her lung. Hopefully we caught it early enough and that's all that needs to happen.  
> Anyways, just wanted to say sorry and explain why I didn't post anything last week.


	36. Vulnerabilites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I see now, oh Father mine. I see with eyes like my old ones, but I can feel the hollow spaces where this Mother’s once resided. She is like me, oh Father mine. She wanted children; a family. The Orokin were selfish and denied her. Denied her! One of their kind. Not all Orokin are cruel and heartless, oh Father mine. But I know you will not see it. So I have made a compromise. You will reject it. But I will not ask you, so it will not matter.
> 
> I have done what you asked and destroyed them from the inside. They were none the wiser, and their Guardian none the wiser. Such simple minded constructs, it was a miracle we ever existed. 
> 
> But the children who came from that little dreaming one, the one that made the Mother wish for motherhood despite the supposed it weakness it brought upon her - I will claim them. I will don the mantle of motherhood, like my ancestors before The Great Leap. I will reject The Flaw. I will start a family of my own. And should you try to burn their existence from reality like the Orokin before them, I shall fight you, oh Father mine.
> 
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        It was difficult for him to retain his normal composure whilst constantly questioning her every move. The others were not as adept in maintain a facade, a few to the point where they remained out of the loop intentionally. Jane would not be able to contain her concern about the possibility of the Títånia’s betrayal, and Selvig was prone to spouting personal information about himself and those close without meaning to. For the time being, Selvig and Jane had been sent out to London to investigate odd anomalies that had been popping up. 

        Selvig was thrilled to leave New York, but Jane did not swallow the order of leaving Thor’s side with grace. He overheard the messy, screeching fight through the thin wall’s. He did not envy his brother, despite a part of him wishing to start a relationship of his own. They were complicated and fragile, sentiments only made worse by his heritage. Not that it even mattered, seeing as Títånia might not be herself. Or had ever been herself. At least with Odin everything came to a rapid closure. His father was a fattened bully upon his throne, who only saw value in those around him based upon their use. It was a bitter fact, but a  _ fact _ . Concrete. There was little that remained solid about her nature after his accidental understanding. This… this was an enduring torture that he could not shirk. 

        He was honestly fairing better than most of their company, but that did little to ease the pain of her company. Out of those who knew, Steve and Banner were having the greatest trouble coming to terms with their required duplicity. Banner was in a constant state of stress due to his ‘condition’ as he liked to put it. Why he didn’t embrace it was beyond him, but humans were timid creatures he supposed. The added anxiety Banner felt around the Lamb’s once calming presence did not help said condition. He snapped at her on more than one occasion during the past week or so, until Stark quietly began calling Banner from her company to help him in the lab for he was turning green behind the ears constantly. Banner could not endure the falsities required to navigate the situation with tact.

        Steve’s problem, however, was that he was too keen on believing her ability to overcome the Link, that his perceived morality of her would win over her leash. As if it was that simple. He doubted even Thor and his mother could have awoken enough of a emotional connection within him strong enough to sever such a thing, and he had only bore it for what? A year? He knew not if what she spoke about her past was true, but at the very least she had endured the Link for millennia. How was beyond him. No, he quickly reminded himself. He was sure he knew how she was doing it.

        He had attempted it himself, he informed the others. To delude himself into believing in Thanos’ values, in what he ordered, what he demanded. He buried the light, whelving it to a depth where no darkness could hope to touch it. In doing so, he saved himself. Enough to retain what little remained of the goodness and innocence of his youth for her to rescue when she severed the connection. There was a chance she had done the same. Even more, he admitted.

        His conscious mind became the plaything of Thanos whilst under the leash, but if he was crafty he retained some semblance of free will. Just as she had, no doubt. Perhaps there was a reason to her deception, why she had come to them of her seemingly own free will. Why there were obvious tells something was amiss. She wasn’t exactly hiding her warped perception anymore.

        That being said, he immediately warned Steve not to bring it up thinking her able to stop herself from killing him in an instant. For she would, and with no outward remorse. Just as he would have done to Thor, should Thor have attempted to stop him at a crucial moment. He was thankful his subconscious tricked his waking mind into thinking it best to allow them to capture him to sow further chaos. If he had left, there would have been little that could have stopped him save the sharp edge of a blade drawing the breath from his lungs.

        No one was to mention their knowledge of her Link, nor speak specific ill-will towards Thanos until they came up with a solution. It made trying to plan Thanos’ defeat all the more difficult, but they couldn’t simply drop the subject. The Mad Titan was coming. He grew closer each and every day, just as she grew further and further distant.

        He knew it was because of Thanos. The closer her half-brother came, the more he reached out to her across the stars. She cried nearly every night now, sometimes forgoing sleep all together as she huddled into the corner of a sofa to leave him in the confines of the cold bed. As if that gave him any semblance of peace. He couldn’t even ask her what she was going through. She wouldn’t be able to answer him. Or worse. There was no doubting her subconscious knew they knew. It was all a matter of keeping her conscious mind none the wiser. It was painful, watching her deteriorate like this. Enough so to even ask the Doctor for aid.

        Strange, for being a Doctor and having undergone a Link removal so recently, was of little help, however. He knew not the methods which she used to remove the Link, nor had his own experiments upon himself proved fruitful. Not that they could even attempt to pull the Link out along with the affected brain tissues like Strange attempted to. She would never allow it, and if she fought them there would be no victory. As for his midgardian sorcery… Strange admitted to being able to stem the radiation of the Void and mute its powers, but not on such a large scale. And she would notice, no doubt.

        So they turned to what they could use: her puppets.

        Stark had Jarvis notify T’Challa and Shuri of the complications, requesting that Títånia be returned to the Valley (if they could somehow trick her back into that hellish place) or a method on replicating the environment. Stark also made sure to mention to attempt to discern where memory was located in the puppets, as they needed to know more than what she was repeatedly spouting or what they had seen in the tapes. This  _ infection _ stemmed from a time far before she was ever unearthed.

        T’Challa’s response was hesitant, but the king understood the peril that refusing to aid them now could bring. If Thanos came and she was still under his control, in any sort of fashion, Earth was doomed. He chided himself on how easily he bought her vow to protect Earth. Thanos never saw himself as a conqueror or a hero. Merely a force of nature, a balancer. She adored nature, and all the horrors it brought civilized life. In a sense, she was just like her brother, only… more forgiving and tolerant. She knew nature was, so why not she?

        Still, they could not return her without good reason or she would suspect. They had only been here now for a couple months. The new year had come and past, and the snow was expected now rather than a cause for concern. It was one of the reasons why Jane had been so upset, for her departure was set just before the midgardian holiday of love. Asgardians didn’t have such a date. Love and companionship was not something that required a specific day to be celebrated. And though Thor still held those values, it threw his brother off guard to see the one he loved hurt by the inability to spend a specific day with him. Despite all the time spent upon this realm, neither of them could quite get the hang of midgardian customs.

        Títånia, however, did partake in the holiday as much as he detested the notion. Jane had shown her the wonders of shopping, and as such had dragged him, Clint, and Nat out on such an adventure on the cursed day. Not that she bought anything practical, mind you. Natasha bought her warmer clothes. Clint bought her winter boots. He picked up a few more books for her. What did she buy? Chocolate. Always with the food. And not a  _ small  _ amount of chocolate. She bought every truffle, turtle, and bark the gourmet candy store had - some of it she had shipped to the house. Stark would undoubtedly be pissed, but she just snickered as she took another bite out of a blueberry truffle and handed him one. 

        Even he had to admit, as he snorted and allowed himself to be wooed to complacency by the gift, that midgardian chocolate was good.

        What wasn’t pleasing was the fact that every able-minded, single well-meaning man in the store was willing to walk up to her and ask her for a date on this particular day it seemed. Couldn’t they see by his posture she was already taken? Even a few women awkwardly walked up in attempts to steal her hand, which took him by surprise. It was not a notion detested or unheard of in Asgard, but he knew it was only coming to light in recent history for the midgardians. Not that she let any of them get their way. She offered them a chocolate for their troubles, but nothing more. Which did not go unnoticed for long, and soon some of the onlookers stopped by only to get a free chocolate.

        He asked her why she let them use her, even it was meaningless in the long run. She turned to him, eyes clear and sad: they smiled. They were happy. And it wasn’t a lasting bond, she added with a twinge of pain. It wasn’t like they were going to continue manipulating her for other uses. Just a brief moment of happiness. That was all they wished for. There was nothing wrong in just that. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to prove her point or console herself. Perhaps both. It felt an awful lot like she was talking about her Link and the circumstances in which she may have obtained it.

       Quietly he steeled his courage and took her lone hand gracing the table while they awaited Natasha and Clint’s return. She startled, almost pulling out of his grasp before stilling and giving him a questioning look. He wanted to ensure she wasn’t staying just because she believed the others needed to use her to be happy. They didn’t want to manipulate her, not like that. And it wasn’t her use that made them merry. It was  _ her _ . The smile she bore, though as of late it had been dimming; the laughter that she shared, though it was beginning to dry; her excitement at experiences new and old, though she was oft to keep that joy hidden now. It was as close as he felt comfortable getting to asking the root of her despair.

        Her lips twitched upwards, but despite his assuring words they failed to break into even the smallest of smiles. Instead, her eyes glistened and she slipped her fingers out from his reaching hand. She apologized, swiftly and lowly before he could, mouth fishing for what she could say other than a repetitious, fervent ‘I’m sorry’. He grimaced, trying to console her only to find yet another well-wisher coming to her aid to try and make amends in a situation the stranger had no business in being it.

        It was a woman, young and most likely in her early twenties. She stood between the two of them, back turned to Títånia defensively as she harassed him for ‘breaking his poor girlfriend’s heart’ on Valentine’s day of all days. He could hardly believe the absurdity of it all, rolling his eyes as he let the woman rant so he could explain himself whilst she caught her breath. He honestly didn’t know why Títånia bothered going out in public. She drew so much attention to herself just from appearances alone.

        “Are you even listening?” He glanced up, irritated, at the woman who looked down upon him.

        “Hard not to.” He drawled. He stiffened instinctively as the woman reared, expecting the stinging slap, only to feel the blood in his veins run cold.

        “Touch him, and I’ll rip your heart out and feed it to you, you mewling quim.” He barely recognized Títånia’s voice, no longer soft and beguiling like a lamb but coarse and demeaning just as the words she spoke. He had never even heard her curse so  _ sincerely _ in loathing before. Where did she even pick up that language? He didn’t think he had used that on anyone around her. And Thor, the only other one who would have the mind to use such diction, only cursed upon his father’s name.

        The woman choked, tongue waggling in her mouth as she attempted to suck in air.

       “Títånia.” He warned, but her livid eyes remained locked upon the woman’s frozen form. “Títånia.” He tried again, but all he received in turn was a low growl. “That’s enough, Titania!” He demanded, throwing what little remained of his drink at her. They gasped in time with each other, the woman stumbling back into a terrified run while Títånia clutched at her head with one hand as she shook it violently in attempts to clear it.

       “Oh my god.” She gulped in air, her other hand now a snow-white fist upon the table.

       “Títånia are you all right?”

        “I almost killed her.” She whispered in horror, trembling as she stood amidst the dubious onlookers.

        “Titania, are you all right?” He insisted, rising with her and grasping her shoulders until she finally was able to find his face.

        “No.” She paled, the sweet liquid he had been sipping on and melting ice coating her hair. “We need to get out of here.” Without warning she grabbed his right arm and made for the exit of the food court.

        “We should at least wait for Natasha and Cl -”

        “No time.” She interjected, only tugging him along faster.

        “No time for  _ what _ ?” He bit back, trying to slow her to no avail. She led him out into the cold and into a back alley, where they dumped the trash it appeared. It was a pig sty, and reeked of rotting food and mold. “Why are we -” He was cut short by a brilliant, dazzling light enveloping them. He felt the air pushed out of his lungs, then forcefully back in as the ground beneath his feet gave way only to be replaced in an instant, his stomach churning at the lone moment of freefall. As soon as the light came it vanished, leaving them not in the disgusting wretched alleyway, but in the welcoming confines of her room. “You just… you just  _ teleported _ us?” He was too amazed to be pissed. 

        She wasn’t supposed to use her power publicly. Especially near dense concentrations of people. Gamma radiation of that level could be dangerous. Banner was the main propagator of that mandate, but the others agreed to uphold it. Who knew what the repercussions were. That being said, the act of teleportation without the need for the Mind Stone was phenomenal. He supposed if she or her kind did make them, and they were sundered from the Void, he shouldn’t have been surprised that she held all the capabilities that the Stones did.

        His inattention ended abruptly with her sudden, wheezing breath. She sputtered, falling her knees as she clawed at her neck leaving behind angry scratches that soon gave way to a band of crimson that streaked across the circumference of her neck.

        “Jarvis! Get the Doctor and anyone else with medical experience!” He ordered swiftly, rushing to her side and grabbing her hands to prevent her from tearing open the crying slit in her neck. “Títånia. Speak to me. What’s going on?” He needed to know whether or not he could apply his healing to this  _ thing _ or not.

        “Innocent.” She rasped through half lidded eyes. “She was… .” She paused for a shrill intake of air. “Innocent.”

        “O-Okay.” He tried to understand what exactly she was trying to tell him. What did the woman’s perceived innocence have to do with any of this? He hardly saw how the woman was innocent in the first place. She instigated the argument, she went for the first blow.

        “Cannot… .” She coughed, sputtering crimson onto his shirt. “Cannot kill… innocents. Not… allowed.” Her eyes screwed shut as she bore whatever agony she was enduring in a pained grimace.

        “Okay. Okay.” He breathed, steadying himself more than her. It still didn’t make sense in the moment, but he accepted it nonetheless. “But you didn’t kill her, darling. Títånia, she was alive. Do you remember her running off?” He tried to soothe her best he could, but it was of little use.

        The door to her room burst open, revealing an apprehensive Doctor and a fretful Tin Man.

        “What the… is that  _ blood _ ?” Stark was always so adept at pointing out the obvious. He glared, but knew better than to retort now. His words were better suited to trying to calm the Lamb down.

        “Títånia -”

        “She… lived. I… know.” She managed in between heaving breaths. “This is… punishment. For ill will. Towards… innocent.” She grit her teeth with her last words, hands no longer pulling helplessly against his firm hold but crushing his fingers.

        “Okay, but how do we get this to stop?” He managed through clenched teeth. It was fortuitous that he was Jotun and healed faster than the others. She had already snapped two of his fingers. Since when was she  _ this _ strong?

        “Time.” She managed, crying out as Strange ran a curious finger along the incision that was visible on the side of her neck.

        “Títånia.” Strange addressed her with as much tranquility as a seasoned physician could do. “I’m going to cast a spell on you. I need you to not resist it, okay?” She nodded immediately, whimpering. The Doctor’s eyes flicked to his, then to Stark’s before resting on her quivering form. With a incoherent mumble and wave of his hand, she collapsed, her grip no longer threatening to break what was left of his hands.

        “What did you do?” He startled, catching her listless form before it rolled off his chest and onto the floor.

        “I… put her to sleep. I’m not sure if that will help, or if it will just resume when she awakes. I’m not even sure what  _ this _ is. But if she just needs  _ time _ , then… .” He scowled, angry that he couldn’t have thought of that in the moment.

        “Yeah, what  _ was _ that?” Stark inquired warily as he set her upon the bed for the time being. He would make sure to throw the pillowcase in with Thor’s laundry later. “Actually, hold on. Jarvis?”

        “Yes, sir?”

        “We’re going to go down to the lab. If she awakes, or if there’s any complications, could you please inform us right away?”

        “Of course, sir.” 

        “But what about -” He didn’t even get to finish his thought before Strange had resituated the lot of them in the lab.

        “I’m not sure if she can hear us while she’s out. I didn’t want to risk it.” Stark immediately explained.

        “Ah.” Both the midgardians were thinking clearer than him at the moment, how humiliating. But he couldn’t help it. She had given them a method of chaining her, despite the leash she already wore. A deterrence really, more than a chain, but it was something.

        “So?” Stark drew the syllable out in impatience. “Why was she covered in 7up, melting ice cubes, and looking like she almost got lynched with a sharp piece of wire?”

        “I’m not really sure what happened. Titania started crying in the mall -”

        “You made her cry.” Stark cut in tersely.

        “I didn’t mean to.” He began exasperatedly. “She was giving other people the chocolate she bought, and I asked -”

        “You made her cry on  _ Valentine’s Day _ .” He could not help but roll his eyes again.

        “What is it with you midgardians and your days? Can you not show love on other ones?”

        “We can.” Strange attested. “We just like to also celebrate that emotion even more so on this day in particular.” 

        “Wait. You said she was giving people chocolate? Where did she get the chocolate from?”

        “The store in the mall. See’s, I think was the name?” Stark paled.

        “You took her to See’s?”

        “She took herself to See’s and dragged me along.” Stark bit his lip, shaking his head as he grumbled something under his breath.

        “Who bought the chocolate?” He pursed his lips.

        “Does it even matter right now? Don’t we have a larger issue to face?”

        “You know, for once I think Loki is right, Stark.” Strange raised his eyebrows pointedly at the peeved Iron Man.

        “Just tell me how much she bought.” Stark groaned into his palm.

        “Well… she pretty much bought everything they had in stock.” Beside him Strange sputtered in a fit of poorly veiled laughter.

        “ _ All _ of it? Like in -” Stark made a circular motion with his hand. “-  _ all _ of it?”

        “She also paid for shipping to the house for what she didn’t want to tote around the mall.” He timidly added.

        “She - oh my god.” Stark buried his face into his hands, leaning against his workbench for support. “She’s  _ never _ going shopping again with the likes of you. For fuck’s sake, haven’t you heard of restraint?! How is she even going to each that much chocolate?!” 

        “Well I did get her to stop taking so many showers.” 

        “He has a point.” Strange chimed in once again. “But on to what actually matters. So I take it something happened after the crying episode?” He nodded, wincing and noting that perhaps he hadn’t handled it the best he could have. It was good that he hadn’t gutted the woman in public, like he most likely would have done for her insolence in the past - but he might have egged her on a bit as well.

        “Some midgardian woman came up and started berating me for making Títånia cry on Valentine’s day of all days.” He sent a withering look towards Stark. “I may have… sassed her in response. She made to strike me, Títånia lashed out.”

        “She lashed out.” Strange reiterated. “How?”

        “Reminiscent of what Steve described her doing when she previously lost control. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the woman, and the woman couldn’t move - even to take in a breath.”

        “Okay. So she was being protective.”

        “And thoughtless.” He muttered aloud, finally reviewing the scene in his head. “She acted without meaning to.”

        “What makes you think that?” Stark questioned dubiously.

        “She gave no warning.” He mused softly as he continued to dwell on it.

        “I hardly think she’d be willing to endure such agony without a second thought.” Strange agreed after a moment. “What was it again, that caused all this?”

        “She claimed the woman was innocent.”

        “Innocent?” Stark inquired immediately. “How?” 

        “I’m not sure, but I think we need to get in touch with Jane again. We might need her.”

        “Why Jane? We just sent her to London a week ago.” The Doctor pulled a dubious face. He frowned, not wanting to put her through the same pain she had just endured but not seeing any other choice if it came down to it. She had displayed a blaring vulnerability, and it was all they had at the moment that was concrete.

        “Because Jane is innocent.”


	37. Exhuming Memoirs

        They have taken her! They were dead! Dead like this one’s body, but yet somehow their Guardian lives. Does it work for them still? Have they out schemed the Schemer? It does not matter. It has  _ taken _ her, the Dreamer. I do not wish to speak of the others and the terrible things the Guardian has done, but it lingers in my thoughts like the Void clings to this vessel.

        The Guardian  _ killed _ them, tested them and found them wanting. The children born from the Dreamer do not suffice whatever plans it has concocted. I could do nothing to help them. They suffocated and burned to ash in my arms, and I was powerless to stop it. I couldn’t protect my children, my dear precious children. I am no longer a mother of many but of one. One precious, singular one.

        The whole ship is alive now, whirring and humming. I can feel it in the threads of my wired hair. The Guardian has taken my last remaining daughter for a reason, and I will find out why. This I swear, oh reader mine.

_ ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _

 

_         It hurts _ . I whimpered. I felt my throat constrict, my tongue slide, but there was no sound. I tried to twist my head, to shake my trachea clear, but I found my neck weak and limp.  _ It’s dark _ . I whined once more, trying to open my eyelids. Slowly, they peeled apart, dry and caked over. Tears? I wiped the crust away only to find crimson flakes left staining my fingers. No. Blood. I blinked, trying once more to shake my head clear of my disorientation as I found my way to my feet. I frowned at the chubbiness of my hands, looking down upon  myself to find my body clad in a shirt I did not recognize. It almost made it to my ankles. Since when did they even make shirts that big?

        I stilled, releasing that the enormity of my surroundings was not from laying down as my mind began to clear. I was tiny. A child, again. How? I swallowed numbly, ejecting myself from my bed with a solid shove. Cautious, I inspected my quarters, unsure what mischief was afoot. Everything seemed to be in order. Just… larger. More… out of reach. I couldn’t even see myself in the mirror if I stood upon my tip-toes.

        “Ja-jah-jar-vith?” I attempted to call out, but my tongue felt tired and unused. I wasn’t sure how to control it. And my voice… it was small and barely audible. Jarvis would never be able to hear me, let alone understand me. My lips tugged down as I mulled over my options while I attempted to keep the growing sinking pit of despair at bay.

        Suddenly the door barged open, and in walked who I least expected.

        “T-tan-thtanos?” I strove harder to use my mouth, but it fell short once more. He was young, just as I was. A few heads taller, gangly, and fair skinned with no hair to speak of. His eyes were still the same comforting icy grey I grew up with. I could not refrain from smiling at his sudden appearance.

        “Now Títånia, what have I told you of speaking aloud?” I balked, clasping my hands before me in a nervous prayer. I had let my excitement get the best of me. I knew better than that, even if we were alone.

_         That my words are not worth hearing. _ I returned silently, but he caught it all the same across the Link. I could only converse to him or through him. My mouth was too inexperienced to be opened so haphazardly. I remembered. 

        “Don’t take it so hard. Your voice will grow and become beautiful, once we escape this place.” He swept his hand wide over the room. But I liked the room. I didn’t want to escape from here. “Come, little sister.” He motioned to his side, holding out his hand for me to take. Without hesitation I skipped up to his side and grasped it, letting him lead me to wherever he wanted. But I would be lying if I didn’t say it felt wrong. Why? 

        “Who were you calling out for earlier?” He inquired gently as he led me out of the room. The hallway was pitch black. There were no doors that led off of it like I thought there should be. We were walking upon the essence of the night itself.

_         Jarvis _ . I immediately answered, tilting my head in confusion.

        “Who is this  _ Jarvis _ ?” I frowned. Everyone in the house knew who Jarvis was. Stark made sure to introduce him to everyone.

_         Jarvis is my friend _ .

        “You don’t have any friends, dear sister.” He reprimanded me coldly, but as soon as the winter came it thawed into spring once more.

_         But what about you _ ? Brother was my friend. Wasn’t he?

        “I am your brother!” He urged my gaze upward to catch his beaming grin down. “I’m more than just your friend. You don’t need friends if you have me. They’ll only let you down. I won’t. Understand?”

         I didn’t understand, but I nodded anyways.

_          Where are we going? _ I dared to questioned where I would not have before. I could feel his side-long gaze disapprove, but he answered all the same.

         “Do you not trust me?” 

_          Of course. I am just curious _ . I could feel his disdain for my inquisitiveness despite his understanding.

         “Curiosity will only lead you astray. It leads to want and selfishness. You are not selfish, are you?”

_         No _ . I pouted. Yes, I withheld. I could not deny my desire to know. I did not think that made me egocentric in and of itself, so long as I did not act rashly upon it. But brother was wise. Perhaps he understood what I did not.

        “There, there. We are almost there. You will see soon enough.” He soothed. 

        He led me through the same halls where I resided yet, they were foreign and dark. No longer were they filled with the sounds of life: the drone of the television a couple floors down, laughter and idle chat. There was no lingering scent of cooking, or stale sweat. Everything was sterile and clean and  _ dark. _

        I shuddered lightly, clutching the hand of my brother all the tighter. I was not sure why the lightless rooms and halls disturbed me. I was not afraid of the dark. But something felt innately wrong. Was it the stillness? Even though our steps tapped firmly against the ground I could not see, the sound felt hollow and insubstantial. The only thing that remained concrete was my brother’s chill hand. It was all right, I steeled myself mentally. Thanos was here. There was nothing to be afraid of.

        We went down and down, forgoing the elevator - for I doubt it was powered. Through the pristine kitchen that glittered in the dim light that filtered in from where I did not know, to the makeshift garage where Stark tinkered with his suits and other projects. I did not venture there often. It was boring, and Stark made for poor company when he was in the mood for innovating. That, and I got the sense that the Iron Man did not want me toying with his suits on the off chance I altered them in some way.

        There was light here, frigid and demeaning, with hardly any allowance for any shade. It glinted off the metal of the suits upon the wall, and glared angrily against the polished floor. I much preferred the dark, for this reminded me too much of the halls I faintly remembered walking as a child.

         “You see?” But I did not know what Thanos wished to have caught my gaze.

_          Where are we? _ I dared to question once more, for this was not Stark’s lab I realized. It couldn’t be. It felt wrong, and I knew better than to go against my instincts. It was not Thanos that answered me, but a muffled moan from a few tables over. I saw then what he wanted me to see: a body, a person, strapped down under a sheet of white satin stained crimson.

         “You know what to do, dear sister.” He urged, nudging me forward. I found myself taking small steps toward the table, a makeshift medical bed, despite every signal I sent screaming down my nerves to stop. I did not know what to do, despite him telling me otherwise. I could not remember. I did not  _ want _ to remember. My stride faltered as I neared, my neck and spine craning back. “Now, now, dear sister. Do not be selfish. It is time to share your gift.” His whisper resounded through the room, and I could not pinpoint his presence or turn my head to find him.

         I found myself approaching once more, my head barely high enough for my eyes to remain level with the line of the table. Instinctively I stepped upwards, my feet finding a stool that I did not know existed beforehand. It gave me just enough height to look down upon whoever it was. They were female. I could tell from the rise of the sheet upon their chest and the fine lines of their curves. Beneath the sheet they sobbed, twisting and turning as they writhed in their bonds.

        With timid, trembling arms I grasped the dampened sheet loosely, slowly tugging it back. The white edge of the fabric lifted and pulled away to reveal even whiter hair, with a sheen that made it almost akin to silver. Her terrified eyes snapped to mine as the veil between us lifted, lavender pools now dilated as she began to hyperventilate beneath the muzzle of cloth she had wound between her teeth. Everything went numb. Sight, sound, taste, tactile sensation: there was nothing now but her petrified gaze as I apathetically looked down upon  _ her _ .

         My mother. My dear, sweet mother. 

         I had her eyes, I realized. And her graceful, prepossessing form. I touched her cheek, tracing the line of her tears down towards her ears as she moved her mouth in an attempt to speak. She stilled beneath the caress of her child, eyes softening and breath evening. There was so much I wanted to ask. So much I wanted to say. She was beautiful. The mediums aboard the ship must have mourned the presence of their All-Mother greatly. I know I did. I loved her, even though I never knew her. Such was the bond between a mother and her daughter. Did she love me? I hoped so. I think so. Her eyes were soft and tender when they drifted over my naive form.

        But the moment passed as the light flickered and she began to panic once more. The air turned acrid and smothering as my heart began to beat to a maddening rhythm. I fell into the shadow of my brother behind me, an ant in comparison to the hulking mass that blocked the light now. 

        “You know what you have to do.” His voice was gruff, no longer soothing and mellow. I resisted as best I could, not knowing what I would do, only knowing that it would be terrible and horrendous. But it was futile. I was Linked. I was the Wolf, muzzled and chained, and he was the one at the end of the leash dragging me against my will. It didn’t matter if I knew not what to do if  _ he _ knew.

         Without a word, I reached to my right, grasping cold, hard metal that he saw and steadied my trembling arms. Despite the tears blurry my vision, I knew what I was doing, what was going to happen. I knew where to cut. But not through his mind. My hands knew the motions, the touch of the tools, the soft pressure of her eyeballs under their lids. This was not the first time I had done this, I realized. My stomach churned uncomfortably, the acid within trying to eat the flesh away in an attempt to stop me.

         She screamed into the gag, curdling the blood in my veins as I pushed the curved blade past her eyelid and around the first mesmerizing eye. With a squelch I pulled the trigger, extending the hidden blade and enclosing the eye in metal, serving the nerves cleanly in the back. With a sickening pop I yanked it out of her socket. I set it upon the bench to my left without looking, bile rising from my stomach as I willed my arms still. I could feel her through the metal, as if it was an extension of my own body. Quietly I rested my palms upon the still-clothed edge of the table, her life essence trickling down the instrument as it cooled.

         “Very good, dear sister.” Thanos’ epicaricacy not withheld in the slightest as he prodded me on. “The next one now.” My hands lifted of their own accord as I began the process again. I could not do anything but obey. I knew what was going to happen. I  _ knew _ . By the end she would see no light; taste or speak no evil; hear no song; feel no rhythm. Not even her blood would remain to remind me of her presence.

         I wanted to look away from the horror of it all, to run back to the safety of my room and lock the door until someone gentler came along. I wanted to stop. Take her eyes for him if that was what he really wanted, but leave the rest intact - I prayed. Would that not be enough vengeance? To have her rely upon him solely as he once did? But I could feel it across the minute distance between our thoughts. It would never be enough for him. Not now. Not ever. 

         My jaw clenched painfully as her gasp brought reality crashing back down. I never wanted this. I didn’t even know what  _ this _ was. All I knew was that I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t stop. 

         “You may continue with the procedure.” Thanos reminded me when I paused once more. I didn’t resist this time. Perhaps my hesitation only made the ordeal take longer and torture my mother and I all the more. It was pointless to try and overcome his willpower. The only thing I could do was make this as quick as possible if I could not stem the tide of pain.

         I set down the tool I used to remove her eyes, calmly grabbing a finely honed knife and freeing her of the gag. She opened her mouth, inhaling to utter profanities and set me free, but my hand was quicker. I snagged her tongue between two fingers, yanking it as far as it could go before I cut it loose. She gurgled, choking on her cry and the torrent of blood now rushing down her throat. I set her tongue next to her eyes before I replaced the knife with a large needle threaded with wire chord.

         Pressing her lips together, I pierced them and began sewing. She could not withstand the agony any longer, her form limp as she whimpered and let me do as I pleased. As he pleased. I stitched them shut methodically, going over the seam to make sure it held before I snipped the wire and knotted it in place, pressing it into the skin so that it would not bulge. With Thanos’ silent approval I reached for the knife again, holding it against her upper ear. I cut the appendage from her head far cleaner and with far more celerity than Thanos expected or desired. I could feel his displeasure through the Link. He wanted this to last. He wanted her to suffer. Me to suffer.

         Why? I sobbed quietly as I made quick work of the other ear. Why was I included in his ire? Was I not his sister? Was I not precious to him? What had I done to incur his wrath? What had mother done? Why? _Why?_ ** _Why?_** But I could not ask in my current state. Not that I could muster the nerve to pester him if I could. I was numb and dead. There was a hole where I felt my suffering heart before. Now, there was nothing. Now, I did not care. Brother didn’t care. Why should I?

         I set down the blade with a tap that rang throughout the room, throwing her ears haphazardly next to her eyes and tongue. I couldn’t even recognize her now. I barely got a chance to see her face in the first place. She was hideous and mutilated. No longer the pristine, quintessence of an All-Mother. She was as he had always seen her: a sham and a Voided monster. There was no love in her heart for him, just as he bore none for her. Only selfish greed and a need to continue the heritage of the lost Orokin empire.

         “She is ready.” He asserted, lifting her exhausted form with a thought and rolling her onto her side. He wouldn’t dare touch something so filthy. I swallowed hard, hands numbly fingering the tools for what I was looking for until he shoved the syringe into my palm. I shook as he held her still, shoving her head towards her chest to expose her neck, the fingers of both my hands clasped around the enormous tube filled with a turbulent, viscous liquid the color of mountain stone mixed with clotted blood. I could feel them stir inside. These technocytes were active and ready to be directed.

          With one last demand across the Link I caved, stabbing the elongated tip between her Atlas and Axis, finding the central core of her nervous system with ease. She froze in paralysis, unable to breath as I injected the serum into her spine. It took minutes for the syringe to empty. All I could do was attempt to distance myself from her body’s attempts to save itself, trying to find air without the aid of muscles, trying to remain whole, then, trying to die. But it didn’t matter. I could feel it all. I was the infection in her body, that which made her blood boil. I felt every nerve that screamed, every muscle that contracted. I was the death inside her veins.

          But she could not die. Not anymore. She was a prisoner now in her own body, as much as I was in mine. Perhaps even more so. I watched her porcelain skin blister and crack, the shell of her cocoon now gaining rigidity as it lost its elasticity. No longer was it warm and inviting. Instead it reflected the harsh light of the room, just like Stark’s suits along the wall. Little by little she vanished, outer flesh replaced by hardened carapace that glinted with imperfections until at last she was only rock hard porcelain. Which was good, for it contained the rapid metamorphosis inside. I could feel the dull snap of bones, the rip of muscles, through the now pristine exterior.

         “Come now. If you don’t decorate her now, you won’t be able to later.” Thanos cooed from behind me. His voice was even now, without malice. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me, or simply wasn’t entertained anymore. I heard the wheels of the carts I used before roll away as he offered me new ones. 

          Apathetically, I let him take the syringe from my listless fingers before he replaced it with an aether powered buffer. It whirred to life as I pressed it to her still hardening form, leaving behind smooth, blemishless perfection in its wake. I wore her down, erasing her edges and her curvaceous form until it bore a more petite allure. At times, where the casing was not thick enough, particularly around her breasts and hips, the carapace gave way to raw, toughening flesh.

         But it was all right now. She could not feel pain any longer. She couldn’t feel anything. She would sense the wound, feel it close as soon as it opened, but nothing more. Such was the sentence that had been given to her. She would never experience life again, just as she would never truly die. She was a weapon, a tool; a blade and shield that would never dull or shatter.

         When she was perfect, when her form was complete and without flaw, I began to make her real again. I hollowed out slight indents upon her face, elongated and curved, giving her the illusion of eyes. I carved away at her chin, given her some semblance of short hair that cut sharply and shortly at the nape of her neck. I tapered her the back of her head, etching in grooves where gold would be inlaid and set.

         As I moved on towards the rest of her body, I began finely tuning her outer shell. Buffing her feet and palms to grant her greater traction that was ultimately pointless, as well as her collar bones, neck, and inner thighs. Before the metal-skin could heal, I corrupted its purity with shards of obsidian. It would not prove harmful to the frames integrity, and the contrasting colors made it almost appear like she was wearing armor.

         Little by little I transformed her into something beautiful once more. I gave her gold trimmings, polished the porcelain until it shone silver like her old hair. I moved her heart and mind towards the surface, the swirling energy that now pulsed in her chest and head beating in silence now as she lay waiting for someone to take residence. She was no longer a nurturing mother, but a noble guardian. I had not ruined her form like he wished me to, and he loathed it.

        He shoved me away, letting me pick myself up off the ground as he attempted to lift her. I saw him then as he truly was: Voided. Driven mad by power and internal torture. His skin was lavender, solid, and weathered like rock. He would barely fit now under the ceiling of a single floor, let alone walk through a doorway. He cursed lividly under his breath when he could not even budge her, with his physical or mental hands. So he turned to me as I brushed myself off, ordering me to set her against the wall for later inspection.

        I craned my neck to look up at him, wiping the tears from my eyes to gaze into his icy grey orbs. He still had his own eyes. Not mothers. Perhaps Thanos was still in there, somewhere. I nodded mutely up at him, sending my mind to caress hers. I did not order or demand, much like I assumed Thanos did. I asked. I could feel her mind still reeling for the agony she had endured, the confusion at the muted world she sensed now. It was only a matter of time before she lost herself. I gently urged her, knowing that my brother threw the worst temper tantrums of any one I had known.

        Reluctantly she agreed. She knew it was me that had caused this. She wasn’t sure why, nor if it was for the best. She couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. Her diming mind was a jumble of uncertainty. But through it all, I felt it: the last cry of my fading mother.  _ I still love you _ ,  _ my dear child _ . And then she sat up and padded silently over to the wall. When she looked up from her feet, I could sense her lack of recognition. Her essence, her eternal soul, had slipped through, leaving naught but a shell and waiting neural pathways. I felt the tears I so fervently tried to hold back begin to slip. 

        She was gone.


	38. Re-entering the Nightmare

V9824VTS930OTS254 SECRET INTERNAL INSTANCE

AI-ORG/SUDA: SOL/SENTIENT/INTERNAL

 

CONTACT CONTACT CONTACT

INDEFINITE. SENTIENT SOURCE. SENTIENT TYPE: UNKNOWN

This is a unFORESEEN ALERT. 

Contact upon multiple points.

No outbound signals detected.

YUVAN CHOSEN samples comprised. 

Extermination underway.

 

Unable to pinpoint source within ZARIMAN. 

[CHILD] withdrawn and sampled.

FIRE WITH FIRE reinitiated.

 

Technocytes prepared for repopulation.

 

STOP STOP STOP V9824VTS930OTS254

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        I thought we were done, but that was only wishful thinking. He was not content with tearing into my heart with one act of malice. So we continued. I tortured, I mutilated, I mutated. Time and time again. Each time I felt myself crack, giving way to his pressure as he set his insidious seed further and further into my core. But each time I rewrote the melody he conducted. I tuned them, honed them like a swordsmith does a blade, until at last each one was unique and beautiful in their own right. 

        They did not die. They transcended.

        I could sense his mounting frustration as I turned his own work against him. As punishment, I was given more subjects to subjugate. There was a time when I looked up from my current victim, dazed and fatigued, only to find the lab stretching seemingly forever into the distance. A new veil, a new victim, every five feet. It felt endless. Pointless. How many did he want? Perhaps that was not the question. How many had slighted him?

        I recognized some of them dimly. There was the young girl who healed my bruises. Where or when or how I acquired them I couldn’t recall. But I knew she healed them. I saw it in her eyes. There was the boy who blushed around me and didn’t call me names. Now his face was red from screaming into his gag. Whatever adoration they once held for me had long since morphed into fear. In my growing exhaustion, I was not quick enough to catch some of their tongues and my terrified name spilt from their lips. Thanos was unforgiving, crushing their skulls immediately if they uttered such profanity in his midst. Better to silence any contention of his absolute authority than to let it fester and corrupt a frame. I hastily learned to ignore my aching, childish limbs and save them from such a meaningless death. 

        I wasn’t sure how long I labored for. The harsh light never changed. But he only let me stop when at last thirty-four frames stood against the walls, waiting patiently for guidance. Thirty-four. Why did that number sound so familiar? I shook my head numbly as I stepped down from the invisible stool one last time, wiping my silent tears from my cheeks as I waited for his next directive.

        “Come, little sister.” His voice was soft again. Rough, for he was still enormous. But gentle. I made to hold his hand, but my upper arms no longer had the strength to reach his outstretched fingers. He gave me a small smile, kneeling and lifting me with a single, crimson stained hand of granite. “Why do you cry?” He questioned as he prodded me into resting fully in the crook of his arm.

_         I don’t understand.  _ I admitted in sorrow.  _ Why did you hurt them? Hurt me? _ I began to cry in earnest.  _ They were innocent. They were - _

        “Shhh.” He silenced me with a stern yet soothing finger. I hiccuped, trying to withhold my tears as best I could whilst he caressed my head with as much comfort a stone titan could muster. “They were not innocent, little sister.” He reprimanded me once I was reduced to petty sniffling.

_         What did they do? _ I didn’t care if my questioning made selfish. I needed to know. He understood, however, replying without hesitation.

       “They wanted to take you from me.” His words tugged my lips down.

_        Take me from you?  _ I repeated. It made no sense to me. Why would they try to steal me away? I was not theirs. I belonged to no one but my brother. Only Thanos wanted me. No one else had cared before. Other than mother. But mother was often diffident, not trusting anything borne of the Void.

        “They were jealous. They wanted to use you. They were selfish. They could not see that you were my sister.” I nodded slowly. I could somewhat see what he meant now. They were afraid and blind to the truth of the Void. They riled against Thanos time and time again, despite the strides he made to giving them a good life and finding a means of escape. They wanted more. More from me, more from him. More than either of us could give. But I did not understand why that warranted their torture. It would have been one thing to kill them. But... this?

_         But what about mother? _ I was unsure whether or not to ask. It was risk, for there was more to her suffering than mere punishment. He thoroughly enjoyed her transformation, and I would be lying if it I said it didn’t disturb me.

        “There will come a time when you will understand, dear sister.” He stiffly rejected my curiosity. “There are some that cannot be saved. They tip the balance too far off, and they refuse to make amends.”

_         Why not just kill them? _ He chuckled, but I could not see what was so amusing about my question.

        “Examples need to be set so that others will not blindly follow suit.” I pursed my lips, letting my head loll back as I mused his words. I found little use for examples. Often times people turned them against you. Perception was always a finicky thing to deal with. But death? Death was concrete and finite. It could be delayed, obstructed, but never avoided. Death always found a way, just as Life would inevitably as well. In the end, they were one and the same. But Thanos could never see it as such.

        There was night and there was day, two separate halves that never made a whole. To join them in union was heresy to him. It destroyed everything he wished for outside the realm of the Void: balance. True balance, where all things were equal. Men and women, love and hate, life and death - he did not find their differences useful or pleasing. It made them sought after at different times. They were never truly equal, no matter what long-lived societies might have you think. After all, he was a byproduct of that imbalance. Had he been born a female, mother would have loved him.

        He was blinded. Delusional. I understood that now. Just as I was for once letting him in and thinking him kind and brotherly. I had a use, so I lived. A balancing factor for the destruction I could sow and the love I had been gifted from our mother. He could not see that his form of equilibrium would destroy the universe should he get his way. A single birth did not call for an execution, just as one man’s existence did not decree another woman’s. That wasn’t how the multiverse worked. That wasn’t how it was created.

        Nothing was fair and uniform on such a micro scale. Life flourished, exceeding the grasp of Death for but a short while. Excessive populations led to starvation, riots, and wars - each of these lying in the domain of Death. I had see it through Father’s eyes. But Thanos did not think it enough. Even so, Life would win out he said. Life would strangle the Galaxy, the Universe. He did not understand that it was meant to do so. The Universe was not eternal, nor was the multiverse. But the cycle of Life and Death was. Even when this cosmos ended, the Life within finally burning out to give rise to the ashes of Death, it would simply begin again. Each Life was destined to end in Death, just as each Death was meant to kindle Life.

        It was him that broke the cycle, the carefully woven balance. He could not stand that only the totality of existence was fair, and not the minute details that comprised it. He could not understand the beauty in such perfect imperfection. Perhaps that was why he singled me out. I was perfect, and yet not incorporated in the fabric of the multiverse. My Father’s existence, and henceforth mine, was an abomination. We were not Fated to die like the rest of them, just as we were never meant to live. 

        Only one of us held to the former, however. While my Father was not subject to the whims of life, I found my aching heart very much tethered to it. I learned the pangs of love and rejection. I learned what it was like to be hated. I learned the ache of bruises and groaning of broken bones. I learned the desperation of starvation. I was subject to the whims of life, but never to the release of death. 

_         Thanos? _ I questioned quietly as he carried me down the stairs towards the training rooms.

        “Yes?”

_         Do you hate me? _ He stopped mid-step, dissecting me with careful eyes.

        “What makes you think that?”

_         I cannot die. I am everything that goes against what you wish. I - _ He stilled my worried thoughts with a gentle smile.

        “Don’t worry, little sister. I love you. More than you could ever know. I know it must be difficult for you. There’s so much you don’t understand, and I can’t explain it all. But know this: I am going to save you.” His eyes bore his unconditional adoration, as his arm tugged me closer to his chest. I clung to him all the tighter, trying to push the images of my mother and the others out of my mind. I shouldn’t doubt him. Of course he meant the best for me. For us.

        I slipped my eyes closed, desperately dismantling the growing distrust. But each time I cut it’s head off, two more grew in it’s place. Distrust was ingrained into my nature, from my mother and my brother. What did mean by ‘save me’? I was no damsel in distress. I could not sink the mounting anxiety his presence was giving me, that all of my surroundings were screaming at me.

        Everything felt so unnatural, so surreal. And yet… not. I could not shake the sense that I was living, here, in the moment. Or perhaps I had lived this moment already. Something akin to that, where my fractured mind was overlaying scattered pieces haphazardly in an attempt to tell me something. But what? Thanos’ pleased huff jarred me out of my reverie, and I looked up to where he had led me. My stomach plummeted. We had been going down. Only the training rooms resided in that direction. How did we end up back here? In not-Stark’s-lab? 

        The light was not as harsh as before, and the floor wasn’t covered in sticky, coagulating pools. My gaze darted across to the wall where the fresh frames once awaited: empty. What was going on? My blood ran cold as he set me down. Somehow my line of sight didn’t change much. I cast a glance down, unable to see my toes over the curve of my shirt. There were still crimson stains in the sleeves and torso, and it barely kept me modest, only reaching my mid-thigh. At least I was normal again. Somewhat normal, anyways.

         I looked back at Thanos, confused, only to pale. His eyes were a soft shade of lavender now, not the comforting cool grey. 

        “What is the matter, dear sister?” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I forced a gentle smile, shaking my head lightly.

        “Nothing, dear brother. I just miss your old eyes.” I knew better than to lie completely before him. He was no Loki, but he could spot falsities if I did not put effort into them. My chest twisted painfully. Loki, Jane, Thor, Steve, Stark - where were they all? Part of me yearned for their arrival during the procedures. I wanted them to come, to stop me. To stop him. Weren’t they supposed to be heroes? Wasn’t that what heroes did? Come to the rescue? Stop the villain dead cold in their tracks? What use were their posturings if they couldn’t stop one man?

        “But didn’t you love mother’s?” He cooed, malice seeping in to his voice once more. It darkened the atmosphere despite not dimming the light.

        “I loved yours more.” I admitted quietly. His face fell, and for once he did not know what to say. His hand clasping my shoulder squeezed it once before letting it go. I saw it there, glinting in his new eyes for a moment, borne in the flicker of a grimace upon his face: an apology. Part of him did not wish for me to do those horrible things. But they were a necessity. A punishment that could not be avoided. I didn’t need to understand or condone. I needed to do.

        “Perhaps, when this is all over, I will don them again. In celebration.” I cast him a doubting glance before returning to eye my surroundings.

        “Celebration of what?” He was never one for festivities unless it was for show. Nothing was done without purpose. Enjoyment was merely a bonus obtained along the way sometimes.

        “You will see.” He smiled cheekily, like my brother used to when we were little. It was odd, seeing it etched widely on a stone face. But it fit all the same. “But first, there are matters we must attend. Faults that must be rectified.” He grew stern and serious, the charade of his charm and mirth shattering in an instant. 

        The air grew chill and stale. Though my lungs drew in air, it felt like it was thin and not nearly enough. This… now this did feel like Stark’s lab. It was always crisper there than the rest of the house, the cement floor refreshingly cool against my bare feet. I could feel it this time. The floor. My feet. The air had an aroma to it. Metallic and sharp, mixed with grease and ionized particles. It made my heart race all the faster. This was edging closer to the reality I knew.

        He motioned forward with a hand towards a workbench, adorned yet again with thin sheet of white covering a struggling figure. There was no blood this time. Not yet. They were unharmed it would seem, only captured. He urged me forward, my legs buckling as they shuffled to the edge and I looked down upon the newest victim. Who ever it was, they were male. Broad shoulders, flat wide chest, no curves. They were tall as well, heels almost off the edge of the table despite their head resting at the top most point.

        My clammy hands shook as I peeled back the sheet. I dropped it as soon as I saw the raven black strands and terrified sea green eyes, prompting Thanos himself to pull it back fully.

        “Loki?” I breathed in panic. What was he doing here? Tied down of all things. He was smart enough not to get captured unintentionally, or so I thought.

        “Didn’t I tell you, dear sister? Didn’t I warn you that friends will only let you down? They’ll only hurt you in the end. That they’ll only hold you back. You don’t need them. You shouldn’t want them. You only need me.” He whispered, his fingers digging into my shoulders as he marionnetted my arms into reaching for the tools again.

        “You sound like father.” I spat. He released me from his hold and took a step back. I had never before spoken to him in such an aggressive manner. At least, not that I could remember. But the tightness on the back of my tongue felt right. And now, I had done so without thinking. Part of me cowered internally, knowing that I had just instigated something I would not be coming out of unscathed. The rest of me was prepared, jaw clenched, fists trembling in rage as I gathered my will against his.

        “Like  _ father _ ?” He huffed arrogantly. “Oh, you mean like  _ your _ father? The  _ Void _ .” He chuckled, the cart next to me squeaking and clinking as he clumsily grabbed the instruments himself. “Your father is a lie.” What did he mean by that? “A weak coward. He is loveless and thoughtless. Do you think me the same?”

        “Was.” I corrected him instinctively, frowning at the muddled uncertainty of my own mind. Father was dead now. Wasn’t he? I was the Void. I was the monster that lay waiting beneath all of reality. Why then did he not know? Why did he not make that distinction? And why did it feel like my mind was rewriting itself on the fly? 

        “What?” He growled in confusion.

        “My father is dead.” I told him plainly. His face morphed into panic and anger before his emotions receded once more into inscrutable stone. “And I would never cast you in the same boat as my father.” I scowled defensively.

        “Good.” His eyes narrowed as he answered. A beat of stillness ensued, then he lifted his arms to the table and I realized what he was about to do.

        “Thanos, stop.” I ordered, surging my will back through the Link. Leashes could work both ways, or had he forgotten that? He froze in place, though his eyes portrayed his mounting fury. “He has done nothing wrong.” I attempted to placate him with reason, but his eyes hardened all the more.

         “Nothing wrong? Do you not know the way he looks at you? The way he thinks of you?” He laughed boisterously. “Oh, of course you do.” He continued to snicker. “You can hardly block out his racing thoughts after the sun falls. And you share a bed with him?” He spat on Loki’s face. Loki could only incoherently mumble back lividly through the gag. “You think that he will be willing to continue platonic friendship for eternity? That your naivete will keep him at bay?” He paused, his lips turning upwards in a surprised gasp as he found what he was looking for. “But… perhaps that’s just it, isn’t it? Perhaps you don’t want it to always remain on such terms. You’re dependent on him. You don’t want to let him go.” He tilted his head mockingly. “Do you really think that giving him what he wants will make him stay? He’ll drop you like he has done everyone else in his life. He’ll -”

         “Shut up!” I heard enough of my brother’s jealous monologue. “He has not wronged you. You cannot hurt him.” I decreed.

         “Oh, but he has dear sister. He has. He wants you. And you are mine. That in itself is a crime.” He snapped my will like it was nothing but a thin filament of a spider’s web, arm careening down towards Loki’s head. I shoved my right palm up and away, flinging him back and back and back through the endless continuation of Stark’s lab until at last he came hurtling into the wall behind me. 

          He gasped violently, the house shuddering from the force of the blow as he staggered to his feet. Gingerly he wiped his sputtering lips as he eyed me warily.

        “You will not touch him. Any of them.” I hissed, widening my stance as I lowered my body to charge.

        “And you’ll what? Kill me?” He still found time in his defeat to taunt me. I refrained from answering, letting the knife of my hand speak for me. I rushed him, piercing his coarse leathery hide and freeing the soft innards of my brother. Whoever this was, it was not my brother. My brother never existed in the first place. I knew that the moment I took his hand. I remembered it faintly. His touch was not one of comfort, but of despair and grief.

        My eyes drifted up to catch mother’s one last time. The blood in my veins ran cold, my hand now numb and extremely rigid. Thanos  _ smiled _ as his form wilted away like a withering rose, but his words lingered in the back of my mind as I awakened to reality. 

        I had not buried my hand into Thanos’ abdomen, but Loki’s.

        He sputtered wildly, form morphing into its natural state as he wrenched my unprotected hand free and covered his gaping wound with one of his own. I could feel the throb in my palm, my fingers, my wrist. He had frozen the tissue until it died. Instantly. It hurt. But I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. I lifted my dead hand, the ice that ran through his veins trickling down my arm and reaching living skin. A day ago I would have been tempted to taste it, to know what it was like when it slid down my throat. Now, despite my empty stomach, I felt like vomiting.

        Stark and Doctor Strange bolted past, bearing their own bruises and scrapes with indifference as they attempted to stabilize Loki. Strange insisted that Loki would be fine as Stark carefully lifted Loki into a sitting position after wrapping his limbs in shredded armor and clothing to make it safe to touch him. I blinked, still half-dazed and unsure. What had happened? How had they gotten hurt? I hadn’t… did I? The truth struck me hard in the stomach as Loki’s confused and betrayed eyes locked onto me, and I heaved. There was nothing to vomit but bile and blood, but it joined with his in a foul smelling mess between us.

        The Doctor and Stark faltered for a moment at the action, only returning to their attempted healing when they realized I was not a threat. At least, not anymore. Not right now. I slipped my eyes closed as Strange muttered strange incantations under his breath, trying to find some reason to the madness. How had this all begun? I couldn’t quite remember. Which was odd. It was  _ wrong _ . Because I should have. I remembered everything. I couldn’t forget. I clutched my head with my good hand as a rush of energy surged from Strange. I tried to recall, tried to summon what my addled brain could not find. All I received was Thanos’ ugly, sneering face and a flood of rage and fear.

        I rose to my feet, wobbly and unsure as Strange began to tediously mend the hole I created in Loki’s stomach. I wasn’t sure what was going on right now, or why my mind felt split in two. It felt as if I was living from two perspectives, two souls, trapped in one body. I wasn’t a lamb. I wasn’t wolf. I wasn’t sure what or who I was at the moment. All I knew was that I had to leave. I had to get away from them. From anyone. I was a danger. A risk. 

        They should have left me in that pod.

        And so I ran, barreling through the vibranium reinforced garage door, that evidently Jarvis had summoned to barricade the outside world. From me. I felt the warmth of my stinging tears chill my face as I sprinted off into the snow-dead woods behind the garden, knowing that the comforts of civilization and crowded streets would only lead to more bloodshed. All the while, Thanos’ words nipped at my ears in sadistic glee.

_         I won’t be hurting anyone, dear sister. I never have. It’s always been you. _


	39. Charade Undone

        How many times must it give only to take? The cycle repeats with no end in sight. Everytime I think it done, a new batch of children appear. I try to withhold, to deny my true nature. But I cannot. They can barely walk. By the time they come of age they speak of me fondly, call me mother.

        Then  _It_ takes them, the Guardian turned mad in its solitude.

         I’ve tried to train them for the eventuality. I taught them the secrets of that which I cannot resist, that which will be my kind’s downfall. They flounder helplessly, die helplessly. It is not enough.

         Yesterday, though, yesterday was a new day. Yesterday the Dreamer returned, the child who slept and awoke, whose hair is stained with blood of countless of her makers. Something is different. This will be the last cycle, the last attempt. This child, this long lost daughter of mine, is precious. I will push her harder and farther, until she breaks and is reborn. Until _I_ am reborn.

        My body is flawed and dead, unable to reproduce and break the cycle. But hers… hers is perfect. She will be a perfect mother to the perfect family. Won’t you, oh daughter mine?

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        I ran, and ran, and ran, and _ran_ , faster than I ever dared to run before. I pushed myself harder, _faster_ , until my legs burned and the tendons binding muscle to bone began to tear from exertion, and the agony of each step was too much added torture for my mind to bear. Past the comforting line of hibernating trees, reaching ever upward for the dim light kept at bay past the clouds, through the bustling traffic, across a bridge and further away from anything and anyone I knew. I followed the frozen river north, cutting back across at the best opportunity when it became clear I was headed into civilized territory once again and continued my northward trek until at last I found secluded woods once more.

        I wasn’t sure where I was heading or why I was fleeing. I couldn't escape the horror within. No amount of travel would take me from its presence. With great difficulty I stopped myself from going any further, resting my back against a tree and sliding down it to blissful, numbing cold. I stilled my breathing, focusing the chill of my breath and the cloud that escaped. In, out. In and out. My heart pounded, but the thudding in my ears died down at least.

        I pensively frowned, licking my parched lips when they cracked open to spill tiny droplets of blood. I still couldn’t remember how it all happened. One moment Thanos was there and the next… . I shook my head wearily in dismay trying to recall what happened prior. There was the woman at the mall. She was yelling at Loki and I was barely keeping myself in check. She swung and I … lost control of the wolf within again. I ran. I came back. With Loki in tow. I suffered the repercussions of my brashness, and then... _nothing_. No conscious thought whatsoever. I paled, briefly recalling muffled voices in the last final moments of drowning darkness and faint tickle of energy passing over me.

        So Loki or Strange cast a spell upon me? No doubt to ease the pain of punishment. But they should have let me suffer. I deserved it for striking an innocent. And now look what their sympathy had wrought. They were my friends. I was supposed to protect them. Instead I almost killed them. My stomach churned angrily once more, threatening to loose whatever remaining bile it had left. There was a second image haunting me now along with Thanos’ victorious smirk: Loki’s confused look of betrayal as he bled out.

        I shuddered, holding myself around the knees, hoping that the action would somehow keep my mind together. There was no comfort now to be found in the arms of others. To do so would be to put them in harm’s way. They had already done so much for me, I would not risk them further. I would finish the task on my own, if not to save them from Thanos’ wrath then at least to save them from myself. They would search and give chase no doubt.

        I was… useful. Always… useful. I hated that word. It made me feel small and unimportant. Perhaps I was. But that didn’t mean I enjoyed feeling those things. At least they masked those dismal thoughts with ones of joy and happiness. They cared, I think. Truly cared. I was more than _just_ a tool. They weren’t just my friends. I was their friend too. The notion made me weep bitterly.

        No one wanted _me_ as a friend before. Not like Jane. Not like Loki. Or Stark. Or Steve. Or Thor. No one took note of my appearance and health until now. No one cared if I was hurt. No one cared if I was tired, or thirsty, or hungry. I had a job, a use, and I would do it or be cast aside. But although they had their own plans for me, it was always secondary to my well being. And look what I had done. Squandered it with petty games and trivial hope. Thanos was never so kind. I should have realized that sooner, acted accordingly.

        I told them, Loki mainly, of the generosity of my brother. Both as a plea for help and as a means to enforce the image of a dotting brother upon my fractured mind. But… Thanos never cared. Not like them. Nothing was ‘wasted’. I did not _need_ to eat to live, so I felt the pangs of starvation. I could not shoulder the weight of the repair tools, and the others could not be bothered, so he taught me strength both physically and mentally. He broke my bones until I could bear the load I needed to carry and taught me agony so that I might withstand true suffering. Harsh lessons begat the fortitude with which to carry on.

        But the _Avengers_? My friends? None of them had ever been so cruel.

        Even Loki, whose desire for my power outmatched all the others combined, did not harm me. Whatever that _thing_ in my head was, visage of Thanos or otherwise, it was right. I knew he wanted me in ways that others had already taken of their own volition. But Loki did not press. He didn’t tear me down. He didn’t brutalize me. He held me in the comforting nest of his arms and bore his mounting frustration in silence. Even he, arrogant and proud and self-proclaimed god was kinder in his heart than my brother. Thanos had no right to insult him. Loki was a far better man than he ever was.

        A flash of pain cascaded down my spine at the furious thought, reminding me that I should not - could not - think of my brother in such a way. But I didn’t care. I grit my teeth and let the agony wash over my body, consuming me in a fiery hell as my nerves found new ways to induce suffering. Thanos was a lie! He was never my brother. I was never his sister. He was a bastard and a liar, just as I was. He was not innocent! A searing bolt of _white_ crossed behind my eyes and I heard myself cry out as darkness enveloped me.

        I blinked, rubbing away at the spots in my vision as I stood upon my wobbly, burning legs. What had just happened? I shook my head groggily, trying to rid myself of the ringing between my ears. What had I been thinking about? My lips tugged toward, unable to grasp anything concrete. There were wisps of emotions - angry, despair, love, hate - but they were like smoke in the wind. A dull whooshing came in on that very same breeze, and I placed a hand over my heart to calm it only to realize the sound was coming closer.

        Panic set in when I looked up to the dimming grey sky and saw the tiny dots on the horizon. Helicopters. Three of them. Perhaps they were heading for a nearby airport I reasoned, but my heart knew otherwise. They were looking for me. I knew they would. But I didn’t think they would be able to pinpoint my location so easily. Loki wouldn’t have - I looked down upon my attire, reluctantly lifting the bracelet he had gifted me. No. He would have. He was still like Thanos in some regards. Nothing was ever done without purpose.

        I tugged it off, throwing it into the snow and began making my way further into the forest. I adored that piece of jewelry, though I would never tell him that aloud. I was grateful for a gift, nothing more. But wearing it made me feel _special_. Giddy. Frivolous and pointless ideas, just as useless as the bracelet was. But Jane was right. I never dressed up for any reason. I never had anyone make me feel like I should rejoice in my beauty, only hide it. But she and the others wanted to see it. They wanted my smile and laugh. They wanted me adorned and glittering, in a way that felt disturbingly like my reverence for the frames.

        Oh how I longed for their silent company once more. They were always adept at listening, and never once went out of their way to push my comfort zones. Sometimes I needed those boundaries. I set them for a reason after all. I had never felt the assurance of their embrace. It probably wouldn’t even be comfortable, akin to hugging dumbbell or one of Stark’s empty suits. But they didn’t need to hold me to reassure me. They innately understood me. They saw my mind in a way no one else would ever come close to when we were joined. That was a comfort in and of itself.

         Sometimes, I think I still felt them. Far off in the distance, in the dead of night when the only sounds were the steady rhythm of Loki’s breath and beating heart, they sang. They _called_. They waited. I felt a trepidation across the span of the Void, an odd consciousness that I wonder if it could not sense my mind in return. To the others the Void was nothing more than an energy source. There was no meaning to be found or conveyed in it. But I could still sense a muted concern all the same. Someone worried they had been abandoned, left to rot and rust in the Valley until they were naught but an intricate statue. But I was not my brother. A dull throb echoed at the base of my skull, a warning should I continue on that path.

         I puffed out my cheeks, distracting myself with the smoldering heat in my thighs and calves. I wouldn’t make it far without healing, but if I stopped to mend my legs they would no doubt catch up. They had already landed nearby. I could hear them now, shouting for show across the expanse between us, the vibrations ricocheting off wood and snow alike. They wanted me to agitate me further, to spur me away from their direction to where others were no doubt lying in wait. I was not blind to the tactics of the Hawk and the Spider.

        Not that it mattered much. If they found the bracelet, which they would, they would find my tracks. I trudged onward, trying to find a way out. I would not fight them, despite what the whispers between my ears were demanding me to do. I refused to. I did not wish them harm. It was why I had to leave, regardless of whether or not they understood or agreed with my decision. But how? My mind was a scattered mess, a problem only worsened by the continuing, panging pulse at the base of my skull. If I phased out of this realm now, I could not guarantee a timely return.

        And Thanos was close now. Time was of the essence.

        If I could call upon my former companions, there would be no cause for concern. But I couldn’t. I was alone and defenseless thanks to my uncertainty. Even as my heart screamed across the distance through the Void, I knew in my mind I would receive no answer. It was not possible without my active control of their bodies. Their will had been stolen, siphoned out by the Void itself while their bodies hardened. What my father did with it, what _I_ did with it, was beyond my knowing.

        I froze at the snapping of a twig underfoot, knowing that it was not my own. Carefully, I lowered myself slowly down to the ground, hiding in the shadow of a fallen over log. While my heart was screeching at me to run or at least stay upright, I knew better. The day was gone, the moonless night had come. Only my odd, lumpy form next to a flat tree would give me away. But the shadows concealed me with ease. Even if they shown a light in my direction, my body and it’s passing would be hidden from sight without a discerning second glance.

        I held my breath, not wishing to give away my position with the tell-tale puff of steam. Their feet crunched closer. Ten feet. Five feet. Three feet. Silence. I waited, unsure whether to bolt or remain where I was. They shuffled, cold probably, before turning and stalking away. Still I did not dare to move or draw in breath. Not until their footfalls had taken them towards where the rest of the group was coming from. I sucked in a breath as quiet as I could, rolling to my feet and wincing as I stood. Were it not for Loki standing next to me I would have fallen again.

        Wait.

        Oh shit.

        I lurched away but it was too late. His arm was now firmly clamped over mine.

        “Did you think you could hide from me?” He chuckled in dry amusement. “Come now, Títånia.” He cooed sinisterly as I wrenched my arm from his grasp only to have him catch it again. “I understand that you are frightened and confused. But _running_? Darling.” There was an edge to his tone as he scolded me. He was just as terrified as I was. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

        “How did you find me?” I murmured, refusing to follow his tugging. He raised a dubious eyebrow. “I dropped the bracelet. I have nothing of yours for you to track.” I insisted, finally breaking free in his mild surprise. A small smile flashed across his face despite his seriousness.

        “Oh darling.” He sighed wistfully, daring to encroach once more. I didn’t like his nature at the moment. It was predatory and malicious despite his soothing words. Gone was the gentleman who wished for nothing more than my well-being. “After all this time, you are still naive.” My eyes narrowed.

        “What do you mean?” His face was buried in his palm faster than I could utter the words.

        “Frigga, grant your son patience.”

        “Loki.” I warned him lowly, edging away slowly, careful not to trip on the log. My attempts were almost thwarted by a sudden gust of wind.

        “Títånia.” He threatened right back. “I know you didn’t mean to harm any of us. It wasn’t you. The others understand.” He spoke reason and truth, the latter was expected but the former was not. This was no trick. They genuinely wanted my return despite my betrayal, even after he himself was unsure. My heart clenched. It would have been easier to leave if he hated me fully.

        “And you?”

        “I don’t care if you return.” He admitted quietly. It stung, but it was expected. “Just take me with you.” I hadn’t realized I shut my eyes in an act of acceptance until they shot open.

        “ _What_?” Was he insane? What a silly question. Of course he was. “Loki, you can’t.”

        “Why not?”

        “You’ll get hurt. You’ll… you’ll get dirty.” You’ll get in the way. As much as I was addicted and dependent on his continued presence, he had a method of distracting me. I needed solitude more than anything right now. And he of all people would not be safe. He was far from innocent.

        “Títånia -”

        “Loki, I promise you I’ll give you whatever you want after this is all done.” I spat irritatedly, twitching as I shirked a new compulsion to take him with me. For all the Light that remained in the Void, how many bonds had I made just to try and negate the one? His softening expression hardened instantly. “What? You think I didn’t know? Come on Loki, I’m not that naive.”

        “No, you really are.” His voice cracked as he shook his head, the movement slowly turning into a nod. “Once I would have agreed to that.”

        “And now?” I dared to break my heart further. It mattered little, considering it already lay shattered.

        “Let us help you.” He pleaded fervently. “Let _me_ help you. Do you not trust me? After all this time?”

        “I trust you.” I confessed softly. “But not in the way you wish.”

        “What do you mean?” He took a frantic step forward, knowing that our time was short. The others were barreling down on our location, having found my tracks. If this was a play to stall me then he’d done it splendidly.

        “You wish me a Lamb, and so a lamb I shall be. But you must play your part now, Wolf.”

        “Títånia.” It was Thor who arrived first, Mjolnir in hand. “Stop this. Come back.” I ignored him, focusing intently on Loki. A part of me remembered that he was important. It ached something fierce to recall that glimmer of hope, but it was all my fading soul could muster before hiding itself deep within once more.

        “You are the Wolf I have chosen, and this -” I swept my hand over the stragglers “ - this is your pack. A Lion, a Spider, and a Hawk. A Doctor to look over you all, an Iron Man for ingenuity, a Captain for a shield. And… .” I stole a curt glance at Banner. “A Hulk.” I wasn’t sure why they let him on this excursion. He was just as unstable as I was.

        “And you.” Natasha was the one who butted in, though Steve made to do so as well.

        “I am no wolf. Not anymore. I haven’t been a wolf for thousands of years.” It grieved me to admit that. All of this was mere posturing. I had no will or intent of my own, only that which was placed within. My only true goal, the only one that was _mine_ , was to attain my freedom. From there I would learn my place and my soul - whether the wolf within still lived or whether the seed that had sprouted had strangled it. “I am just a sacrificial lamb.”

        “You don’t have to be.” Steve was brave to stride forward, to offer me his hand as opposed to his shield. I made for it only to be stopped by yet another gust of wind followed swiftly by a shriek. My breath caught in my lungs. I had never heard that sound before, but I knew it. I _felt_ it resound deep within my chest.

        “What was that?” Banner was right to feel uneasy, setting his eyes skyward towards total blackness.

        “Just an eagle no doubt.” Thor assured the Hulk with even a second thought, but Stark wasn’t buying it.

        “An eagle? In the middle of night?”

        “Well… yeah.” Thor huffed indignantly. “It could be a night… eagle. Or something.”

        “I think you mean _owls_ , Thor.” Steve quipped. “And owls don’t make a sound like -” A burst of snow erupted between the two of us as the _eagle_ landed, silencing their alarm with a shrill screech produced by forced air currents. Steve stumbled back, shield raised protectively before he and the others took their time to assess the situation.

        My lips curved upwards of their own accord. Was it me that was smiling, or someone else? Did it matter? I supposed I was happy too. I felt the connection. This was real. She was standing before me, not porcelain white, but jet black, adorned with blades of gilded blade-feathers pooled from molten starlight along her forearms, and angled head like that of hawk. She was quiet usually, kept to herself and tended to use the power I granted her to soar amongst the peaks near the Valley at night. So unlike the others who were content to return to the Nothing.

        “How?” I breathed in wonder, stretching my hand to know the sensation of her cold, metallic shell. It was different than Stark’s suit. There was so much energy bound into her being, a warmth that seeped from her hardness, a liveliness to her form. If I didn’t know better, from her movements and her thoughts, I would say she was just as alive as I was. Perhaps, in a way, she still was. “Zephyr.” I whispered her name when she did not respond the first time. Her head tilted quizzically as she turned, inspecting my form.

         Her hand raised confusion, her sightless gaze looking at her twisting palm then back at me. She did not know why she was here. She heard my call, my innate, desperate plea. It was neither of our conscious doing, rather the consequence of a long buried directive somewhere deep in our original neural pathways - but that was what mattered. That meant it was from _us_ , _for_ us. The others were waking too, she showed me. They stirred somehow in the Valley, where all things were meant to be silent now, in a way that unsettled her and told me of the danger to come.

        She did not understand why I was not like them. The thought sent a chill down my spine. Why was I still flesh and not metal? Her hand timidly caressed the soft skin of my cheek. But for all the jealousy that came with knowing I had somehow survived and she had not, she was pleased. Besides, if she were still flesh and knew her name, she could not fly across oceans for fun. I smiled sadly. I once thought like her. But I didn’t know the joys of living. She would never know the beauty of color, or the slip of silk, or the sensation of hot chocolate sliding down her throat after a day in the cold. But she remained content with what she had. As I should have. She was far greater than I, dismissing her selfishness with ease.

        Still, what strength she bore in spirit she lacked now in her physical shell. She was drained from the trek, pushing herself as far she could on her low energy reserves. Frames could not siphon the Void into themselves without the aid of a medium controlling them. It was a safety protocol, so that any deviants would be rendered helpless once their reserve from their last meld was depleted.

        I reached out to her and she took my hand without hesitation or fear. She knew the truth. She knew it all along. They all did. It was time that I learn my purpose as well. I asked her what she meant, but all I received in return was the symbol of a lotus flashing across my mind, both a promise of safe harbor and a warning. She swept me into her rigid arms, cradling me against the hard wall of her chest. It was uncomfortable, but it made me feel safe all the same.

       “Títånia -” Loki rushed us but he was far too slow. Zerphy leapt, spiraling elegantly into the air with ease before a gust of wind kept us hovering there while she set her trajectory. My lips bore an eager grin, but my eyes would not stop weeping. My heart didn’t want to leave them. It wanted to take that hand, despite my mind ordering me elsewhere. But it was too late now. Casting one frantic glance down, I sent what I knew would be my final plea for help.

_Find me, dear Wolf._


	40. Coming Home

        She has strayed. The daughter who above all wished for motherhood has fallen into disgrace. It is partially my fault, I cannot lie. I could not grant her her wish. It was beyond my power. Beyond even that of the foul Orokin. 

        It is with great grief and remorse that I cleansed the system, that I erased the majority of the Orokin stain. For with it, Natah, my beautiful daughter Natah, is gone. She could not see beyond her selfish desire. She already had a family if she but looked to those she left. 

        The children she looked after were naught but miscreated demons, not so unlike what we once were, but, most importantly, were not her own. I would pity them, were they not Orokin as well. There is no such thing as an innocent Orokin. I hope she learned this before she burnt. 

        It pains me, but I will carry her memory onwards lest my other children forget and be tempted by the falsities of families outside of our kind. I wish now that I had taught her this lesson before I sent her to undermine them. Perhaps then I would not have lost something so precious.

        I shall miss you, and love you always, oh daughter mine.     

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        The journey was far shorter than I expected, only an hour in comparison to the four and a half it took before. Zephyr created a constant tail wind to propel us that would have torn a human airship in two. It nearly did, but she narrowly avoided catastrophe with a slight dip in altitude.

        The brevity was appreciated despite the lack of time allowed to think. I couldn’t catch air in my lungs while she sped along the night sky, and my limbs were numb from the lack of oxygen and frigid wind. They were small inconveniences that she most likely didn’t even stop to think about, for she could not recall their sensations. I forgave her silently. It was all right. I had been dealt worse from those with far worse intentions.

        She was silent unless spoken to, despite clearly holding many inquiries of her own that she wanted answered. I found myself asking her small questions just to ease the disquiet in my mind, to fill the small gaps in our silent companionship with something worth of note. The stillness never bothered me before. Not like this. Though, I suppose it was hard to miss noise when you couldn’t recall hearing it. I had grown accustomed to my … friend’s idle chatter. Someone was always talking or mumbling or grunting - to themselves or to someone else, awake or asleep. Even Loki muttered strange things at times in the middle of the night. Now... now the fact that I could only hear the whisper of the soft breeze and Zephyr’s feet upon the mountain side was disturbing.

        She took me into a small cave of ice, breaking forming stalactites of ice with a solid kick and a harsh gust of wind. How she knew of its existence was beyond me. I had never been to this place, I had never seen it through her monochromatic senses. She had discovered this on her own and kept it from me. Odd considering that though the others held no emotions and ideals, and so rarely held secrets. Zephyr was different, I knew that. But this was… unexpected. Instinctively I began to doubt, but I smothered it quickly. No. She would not betray me. Or, at the very least, she could not harm me.

        With a silent request she knelt, wishing for me to ride upon her back, wrapping my arms and legs around her. She needed her arms to continue the rest of the journey. I reluctantly did so, digging my fingers past my skin and into muscle knowing that my grip was frozen and weak due to the cold. She blasted through a thin sheet of ice with a ball of air pressure, then dropped over a pitch black edge and began shimming down a slate wall.

        I could feel the changes in momentum, the gusts of wind, hear the trickle of loose pebbles falling, but I could not see. I could not pinpoint where we were or use my other senses to gauge my location. We were moving far too fast in a foreign, unlit environment. It was terrifying, not knowing. The soft, illogical side of my mind screamed at me that I was about to fall. I chided it lightly. Zephyr’s eyes were not bound to the whims of light like mine were now. There was no true dark just as there was no true light. To her, her surroundings were data points, and their state of shadow was only one small factual number that meant little. Besides. Even if we were to fall, I would not die.

        With one last shove backwards, she twisted mid air and landed upright with a soft tap. I tilted my head in confusion. That was not mountain stone she had just landed upon. Other than that, I could not discern any other details as she began to walk onwards towards her unstated destination. She leaned forward, arms stretched outward, clutching something so tight that they squealed from the tension, and then _heaved_ back. A reverberating groan echoed up the hollow mountain, and I realized where we were.

        How had she found it, nestled among the bones of the Earth for millennia? That which lay in the Valley was only debris that survived the crash, cut off in the final moments.

        I immediately pelted her with questions, only to grow frustrated when all she returned to satiate me was the same ambiguous symbol of a lotus. My arms clamped up, my breathing began to escalate, as I felt the onset of fear radiate out from my chest. I thought her my hero, a savior to take me away from those I wished to rid myself of. Instead, she had her own plans for me it seemed. I had no room for other plans. Too much was at stake. Only Thanos mattered now.

        I quickly lost track of where we were as she made turns and dips in the lightless halls with confidence. If there was light, I no doubt would recall the layout of the halls and their twists and turns. But my mind could not make connections with the place as I once knew when there was nothing for it to take in. For now, I was at the mercy of her whims. How ironic, given that she was once bound to the mercy of mine. I was the one now tethered to her, letting her will take us upon her shifting metal limbs to wherever she pleased. I shuddered, wishing myself back in the forest with the others, wishing that I had taken Steve’s hand.

        I stilled my thoughts, tilting my head. There was another sound now joining Zephyr's rolling stride. Splashing, bubbling. A happy sound, like a small brook, or a fountain. I frowned, trying to remember if the ark which housed us ever had either of those, but my mind cut short it’s search when the surroundings were suddenly flooded with light. I winced, letting go of Zephyr with one hand to shield my eyes as I grimaced.

       She knelt once more, the action forcing me to brace against her as she requested my dismount. With a grumble of miffed thought I stood upon my own two unsure legs as I squinted to take in my surroundings. I would have taken a step back in retreat where it not for Zephyr who had already placed herself behind me.

        They were all here. Waiting. All thirty-two of them that remained, thirty-three if I counted Zephyr behind me. They stood, sightless gazes locked upon me, judging and evaluating my form. I could feel it in the whisper of their thoughts that rushed between them all. This… this was the one that had wielded them all those years. This frail girl, barely a woman by their standards, had sheltered and hidden them away from the world and prying eyes. I was not what they envisioned. But… no. It was not their thoughts. They were merely a conduit for a greater mind that thought through them. They were thoughtless, will-less, unlike Zephyr. I understood that now.

         I tore my gaze from them, not wishing to give them the satisfaction of my anxiety. Instead, I took note of the pristine environment. The walls were whole and unmarred, the greenery, unlike anything I had seen upon this planet, looked healthy and well-looked after. There were red stalks with worm-like, vivid blue flowers that recoiled into their shells as I passed; pale, glowing lavender bells that almost hummed with the Void that took root in the shallow sand; towering luminous trees of the purest white that bore no leaves, only branches akin to roots. Was this really where I grew up? Where I was born?

        I never recalled such vibrant colors contrasting the walls. Just white and untarnished gold, stretching for as far as my young eyes could see. Now there were cracks. Time had begun it’s long-awaited decay of this Orokin vessel. The roots of the very trees meant to bring life now found purchase in the hull, their stands long since toppled and shattered under their oppressive weight. So much death had seen these halls, life was now rebounding and staking its claim.

        My head snapped to the frames, their heels clicking in sync as they stood at attention. With an expectant turn of their head they focused their gaze upon the dais at the end of the extended courtyard. Once, it might have held a small seating area in its circumference. This area must have been marvelous to see in its full splendor. Now, it was bereft of any furnishings. Why then were they looking at it with such anticipation? Cautiously, I began to approach.

        “And so, it comes to pass: the last vestige returns. Bruised and battered, but nonetheless whole. Your suffering has not been without need, oh child mine.” The voice was soothing and feminine, it’s lilt most pleasing to my ears. My eyes narrowed as they started to saccade over anywhere one might hide. There were few shadows, though perhaps in the foliage? The Orokin did not enjoy the whims of the dark.

        “Who are you? And what do you want?” I questioned, more reserved than I would have wished. Whoever this was knew of my ancestry and how to control the frames. Had another medium survived? It was hard to think such a thing possible, but I knew not how else the frames would be so rapt in attention.

        I felt a collective smile within the minds of the frames - not a jeer or a smirk, but a gentle understanding - then a flash of the same, ominous lotus symbol.

        “Do you not remember, oh child mine? Has he taken even those memories from you?” Sorrow and pity emanated clearly from their voice.

        “Who are you? Come out where I can see you.” Soft footfalls, far lighter than the unquieted frames, rang out from behind the far wall that separated one half the courtyard from the other. I tensed, letting them approach rather than mount the steps towards them. I was already in the lion’s den, I did not wish to completely surround myself.

        I sucked in a frantic gasp for air as the figure rounded the corner, falling to my knees as I clutched my head in agony and screamed. My mind was set ablaze at the sight of her. She, whoever she was, was clothed in a dark purple that shone like polished stone in the stark light. Her only discernible features that told me she was of flesh and blood were her pale lips and chin, the opening to her cleavage, and the index and thumb each hand. The rest of her remained covered and armored, her head adorned with an odd headdress that reminded me of a lotus. From it fell numerous wires and cords, and at its lower center, upon the bridge of her nose, was a shining gem that shrieked a siren call that was unlike I had ever heard.

        It was anguish to try and raise my gaze to her form once I instinctively tore it away. She spoke something, but I could not understand her any longer. Her words were muffled by the growing high-pitched whine between my ears. I wheezed, trying to pull in breath after breath only to feel nothing enter my lungs. Her presence was suffocating, threatening to snuff me out. She was a charlatan and a liar. She sought to use me as she once did, nothing more. I grit my teeth, trying to find the source of the thoughts racing through my head that were not my own. But my own mind worked against me, impeding me at every turn. A lone, undeniable command took hold: kill her.

        A part of me was thankful my thoughts were not private amongst them at the moment. They were strung out between the other frames in the room, my once puppets. They heard the cruel whip jolting my mind to attention, they felt my limbs moving as my vision grew dark. My head flung upwards, eyes burning as they took in her visage seen through dilated pupils not entirely my own. I could feel my lips turn up in a carnal flash, teeth barred and eager to tear into supple flesh. She smiled in return, pearly whites remaining hidden behind the thin line of her lips, as the lotus symbol flashed warningly throughout all our minds. Finally, I made the connection.

        So she was the one who had taken what once was mine. It was to her that they now bowed their wills to, who had granted them the lie of freedom and the urge to protect her. I was no fool. I felt their leashes, just as much as I felt my own. Freedom was a lie, a carefully constructed flame meant to instill a craving for greater light and a fear of the surrounding shadows. They were still just as much prisoners as they were under my care.

        I leapt towards her. Not with my legs - for they were frail in comparison to the strength needed to outpace a frame. I already made the mistake of pushing my body further than it was ready, I would not do so again so soon. I saw the twitch of her eyes as they began to widen, her only possible response to my speed. Even Volt with his augmentations and hastening abilities could not match the celerity I had momentarily granted myself. There was no room for her to escape her fate.

        My lungs shuddered in their cage of bone as my knife of a hand quivered inches away from the stone embedded into her mask. The rhythm of my heart stuttered as my limbs went numb in fear. How? She had room for a single thought, a single reaction, and not only did she choose correctly, but she had enough power to enforce it. It hadn’t even been the work of the Void. It lay quiet, pulsing calmly in waves between us as she tilted her head, smile widening. I could hear the creak of squeezing metal, feel the mounting concern from the frames.

        “It’s is all right.” She soothed, waving her hand to still their misgivings.

         It irked me to have them serve her, more than I cared to admit. They were my companions first. It was I who brought them to light; I who gave them purpose; I who preserved what was left of their fading souls and gave them a uniqueness akin personalities. But I supposed it meant little what I offered, what I had done, if their wills were not their own. They were machines, flesh made metal. Not friends. Not like the ones I had so foolishly left behind.

        “Hnng-mm.” It was all I could manage to utter past her hold.

        “I understand you are confused, oh child mine. You cannot remember.” Her right hand raised, the two ungloved fingers tracing the contours of my cheekbones, then my brow, then my nose. It struck me then - she was not actually wearing clothes. Like the frames, her flesh had been hardened and twisted, molded and shaped, etched and gilded. Yet, somehow the transformation was incomplete. Parts of her remained. Her soul had not be strangled, her body not completely ravaged. She was an amalgamation, like me; neither a frame nor a living being.

        My breaths whistled through my nostrils, the only form of aggression I could muster to accompany my livid glare.

        “So much anger, so much rage.” She moved from my field of view. “And yet, it has not consumed all of you. Not like he wished.”

        “Hrmlg-” I growled in frustrated when I remembered I could not ask. What was she talking about?

        “I have watched you, oh child mine. Since they stole you from my embrace and you awoke from the Dream.” I heard her shuffle closer, her hands now ghosting over the back of my neck, nails scraping the base of my skull. “You have grown so much in so little time. Even without my guidance, you found ways to hone your skills amidst the prying eyes of others. I could be no prouder.”

        I struggled against her magic, a mixture of magic and tech and something else that I had not experienced before. Whatever it was made me weak, made the Void unwilling to connect to my being. She tsked under her breath, the binds that held me aloft tightening until I felt my muscles grow taut.

        “So many threads are tethered to your mind, child.” She muttered her surprise aloud as she pressed into my skull with sickening ease. Was it her hand she was using, or a tool? I could not tell. I did not care. It hurt all the same. “You’ve wound his leash with the leashes of others. An interesting countermeasure. If he tugs you one way, the others tug back and you maintain some semblance of balance. But one of them has grown too strong, and it now contends alone with his, even though it has no hope of winning. Your brief interlude with the mortals almost shattered our last hope.”

        Our? She could have been meaning herself and some veiled faction she was working with, but from her tone and her actions I had the sinking suspicion she was speaking of the two of us. I had never even seen anything of her like before, a meld of flesh and frame. A surge of terrified adrenaline rushed through my chained body: what if she intended to make me like her? With a scream of internal rage that Valkyr would have applauded, I broke free.

        She stumbled back down the stairs in shock, timidly accepting the protection of a puppet I knew dearly: Trinity. I grimaced as I stood, taking note that her right hand was now dripping with fresh blood.

        “I do not know who you are, or what you want, but if you do not release my companions I _will_ kill you.” I warned lowly through clenched teeth, but she smirked in response.

        “Oh will you?”

        “I -” The air was forcefully thrust from my body as I was rammed into from the side. I didn’t have time to brace, colliding with pillar, after pillar, after pillar, as my once-puppet charged me through the room, ending it abruptly as he impaled me against the separation wall behind the dais. Nice to see you again too, Rhino. As graceless as ever, he tore me from off his head and threw me at her feet. I huffed arrogantly to myself. As if a lack of internal organs would stop me.

         He roared as I found my feet once more, a bestial sound heard only within the mind that even Thor’s rumbling voice could not dare to match. With a resounding boom throughout the courtyard, he slammed him right foot into the ground. I had no time to react, the shock waves directed and pummeling me upwards into the air once more were I remained frozen in a standstill. Before I could dissipate the Void energy he had discharged, she was upon me, one hand clutch the base of my neck and the other inserting itself once more.

         “Sleep my child. Wake to a world you forgot, and remember who you truly are, oh daughter mine.”


	41. Family Matters

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        He was beyond livid. These midgardians were fools, nothing more, his brother alongside them. How could they just sit there and argue over their next steps? Was it not obvious? They needed to chase her down, stop her before she reached whatever destination she had been preordained to reach. It didn’t matter _how_ they arrived there, though they were adamant in taking every precaution.

        Who knew if teleporting to Wakanda via Strange’s powers would draw attention? What if the airship they had from Wakanda had been tampered with? They were taking every pointless procrastination, he gripped to himself as he let out a steady, controlled breath.

        “What even caused her to do this?” Natasha in particular was having a hard time coming to terms with the sudden ‘betrayal’. It seemed that she trusted the little Lamb a bit more than she let on, or perhaps it was a fault of arrogance. She thought she knew the Lamb’s mind. Not even he was privileged to understand it in its totality, this event only proved that further.

        “I think… .”  Strange timidly stepped forward, fingers itching at the scrap above his brow that served as a reminder that she did not need to be physically stronger than him to kill him. “I think this may have been my fault.”

        “What? How?” Steve cut in, ready to defend the Doctor even from himself.

        “Loki, does she sleep?” He sputtered in surprise.

        “W-what?”

        “Don’t play dumb, now, of all times.” Strange deadpanned, and the rest of the room looked at him expectantly. Perhaps it wasn’t such a secret that he had been sharing her bed. He cleared his throat awkwardly, head tilting as he swallowed his mild discomfort.

        “I think?”

        “You think?” Stark repeated incredulously.

        “How would you define _sleep_ , midgardian?”

        “Oh, _midgardian_ now? Is that supposed to be an insult? Oh. Well then, _Ass-gardian_ -” Banner chuckled lightly but cut it short at Thor’s scowl.

        “That is enough you two. I don’t care if you wish to continue this pettle squabble later, but we have more important things to attend to.”

        “Perhaps a better question Loki: does she dream?” It killed him internally to end his glaring contest with the Iron Man, but he managed to bring his eyes to rest upon a more serious than usual Doctor. Which was impressive, considering Strange was always serious. Jovial, witty, and intellectual - sure. But always serious.

        “No. I cannot recall her ever dreaming. Not in her… _sleep_. Moments prior, perhaps? ” Strange nodded glumly, his statement evidently fulfilling to solidify the Doctor’s theory.

        “I… don’t think Títånia slept.” Strange began slowly and with great care. “Not like us, anyways. If I’ve learned anything from studying the mystical arts, it’s that there are many forms of rest and healing for the body and mind - sleep is only one. When I cast the spell to send her to sleep, she actually _fell asleep_. Normally, not a problem. But she’s never slept before.”

        “So she’s an insomniac that went insane because she actually got sleep?” Strange groaned aloud, clutching the bridge of his nose at Stark’s witless sarcasm.

        “What aren’t we getting? Please explain.” Natasha urged hastily, all the while gearing herself with various belts and daggers. He couldn’t help but ogle out of the corner of his eye. How many did she need?

        “Loki, you spoke to us how during your period under Thanos’ control you separated your subconscious and your consciousness, yes?” He nodded hesitantly in response. “Well, what is dreaming but accessing the subconscious mind?”

        “You’re saying that her subconscious mind tried to kill us?” Clint interjected the Doctor’s next thought.

        “No.” Strange began again irritatedly. “I’m saying her subconscious dreamt, freed from the task of controlling her conscious mind. It was her conscious side, the one that we hypothesized being subverted, that attacked us. I highly doubt she intended us harm, especially given her reaction upon… waking.” He found himself mimicking Strange’s grimace.

         It was painful to think she had attacked him, not to kill - not outright. There was a sadistic grin etched upon her normally peaceful face as she dug her hand in and tore at his guts. She - no, Thanos - wanted him to suffer. Not because his torture was of any consequence, but because it would hurt her all the more. He saw it in her dazed, tearful eyes as she returned to reality, heard it in her first retches, smelt it upon her first taste of bile. They all lacked the vision to see it. This wasn’t about them. This was all about her.

        “So you’re saying _Thanos_ technically attacked us?” Thor spat.

        “I’m saying that the part of her indoctrinated and trained to follow Thanos like a lost puppy, the part she’s been trying to crush this entire time, got loose.”

        “Speaking of puppies -”

        “Stark, not now. I hired a dog sitter.” Natasha cut in dryly.

        “A dog sitter. Is coming _here_?”

        “No, I hired a taxi and paid them extra to take the puppy to the dog sitter.” She huffed in response.

        Evidently, when she and Clint had gone their own way in the mall it had been to obtain an adorable ball of fluff for Titania, seeing as she never had a pet of her own. Not that it mattered to them that she had shown interest in cats over dogs, or that she was nervous of the prospect of owning a living thing when it was brought up. Stark was mildly allergic to cats, and couldn’t be bothered to take whatever medicine the midgardians had for such things. That, and Natasha and Clint never asked the Tin Man to.

        In any case, needlessly, they decided to purchase one for her. They, of course, could not bring it on their manhunt and left it in the house where it quickly did everything an untrained puppy would do: poop, pee, and chew up furniture. For almost eight hours it was given free reign of the empty house, terrorizing Jarvis who was unable to stop it from its rampage of boredom. It even managed to climb the stairs, where it got stuck, frightened of a dizzying ride down, and continued its rampage of trashing Stark’s house in a way only a puppy could. Stark was unamused.

         “So what are _we_ actually going to do?” Banner finally spoke up, anxious and temper barely in check. “I mean, we’re just standing here talking about _puppies_.”

        “We go after her, that’s what we do.” Yes, Thor. Brilliant plan. Let’s just hop across the ocean instantaneously, and stop her dead in her tracks. Or pay our good friend T’Challa a visit. He surely wouldn’t be at all distressed and displeased to hear about recent events and how they were handled. Not at all. Despite his inner ego urging him to harp on his brother, he managed to bite his tongue and curb his acid.

        “And what of her puppets? They’re obviously still around. Do you think you could handle fighting all of them? As I recall, you seemed to have trouble handling one that was hindered.” He raised a pointed brow to his fuming brother. Despite all his bravado, even Thor wasn’t _that_ stupid.

        “I think I can handle her ‘puppets’ as you call them.” Strange piped up.

        “What, really?” He had to agree with Stark’s dubious outburst. Strange had shown little prowess in physical fighting and kept to himself.

        “The Sorcerers are quite good at keeping… unfriendly forces locked up. I have a few tricks that might take them out of her reach. Perhaps even give us the advantage of a bargaining chip.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

        “There’s a slight problem.”

        “Yes, Loki?” Strange did not want to hear this. But despite his willingness to help, the Doctor was only a midgardian sorcerer. He had a few hundred years or so experience up on the man.

        “If you are indeed thinking what I believe you are, I doubt it would stop her for long - if at all.”

        “What? What is he thinking?” Thor’s head ping-ponged between the two of them.

        “You want to trap them in a space between dimensions, don’t you?”

        “Yes.” Strange drew out his agreement reluctantly. “How did you know?”

        “Instantaneous teleportation is almost impossible, but bridging realms is not.” He shrugged nonchalantly, secretly grinning inwardly at Stark’s stupefied reaction. Ah, yes. He did know a lot more than he let on. Sometimes it was good to remind them of that. “In any case, if what she told us is true and the Void holds all these separate realms in place, I find it hard to believe that transporting them elsewhere would be of great hindrance to her.”

        “Well, do _you_ have any suggestions then?” Stark pursed his lips in irritation. He rolled his eyes, knowing it would irk the Iron Man even more. They were all incredibly frustrated with this series of events. He wanted to press further, but hated to admit that Thor was right: fighting amongst themselves now was of little help.

        “I think our first course of action should be to -”

        “Um, Sir?” He bit his lip hard as Jarvis interrupted him timidly over the speakers.

        “Not now, Jarvis.”

        “Sir, this is important.” Jarvis continued despite Stark’s flippant dismal. Even if Stark never programmed Jarvis to convey emotions, he would be lying if he didn’t think Jarvis sounded a bit nervous.

        “Well then spit it ou-”

        “Mainframe integrity is at fifty-two percent. Breach in security systems imminent.”

        “Wait, _what_?” Stark spat in alarm, even faster than Jarvis had spewed his announcement.

        “Thirty-four percent. I am slowing them as best I can, but each time I impede them they adapt faster than I can accommodate for.”

        “Who is doing this?” Natasha stood up in anxious tension, glancing around the room for signs of Jarvis’ plight.

        “Unsure. Faint source emanating from the north eastern African region. Twelve percent.”

        “It’s her. It has to be her.” Steve pointed out the obvious as Stark’s eyes slid closed in solemn reservation.

        “Three percent. I can’t - I’m so sorry, Sir. It’s seems I’ve fail-” Jarvis cut short in a blare of static, an unease permeating the room as that too fell silent leaving them to an eerie quiet.

        “Maybe she just wants to talk to us.” No one was foolish enough to grant Steve’s small wish more credit than a fool’s hope.

        “Yeah. That’s why she killed Jarvis.” Clint remarked skeptically.

        “I didn’t kill your friend, merely... set him aside.” They all froze at the new voice coming through the comms. It was distinctly feminine, just as it was distinctly not Títånia’s. “I shall return him to you shortly.”

        The lights of the room flickered, the glass panel along the inside wall, where Stark displayed his current blueprints normally, lighting up in a blare of white light before dimming to reveal their intruder. She… he blinked, lips tugging down. No. _It_ , smiled softly back them. He wasn’t sure what it was, only that it was not like them. Not entirely. It had lips, flesh and skin, but it was woven and melded with metal. He could not see much of the entity, only its head and a bit of its attached neck, but the majority of what he could see reminded him of the puppets. Only… purple, and not nearly as perfected.

        It wore an odd headdress, reminding him of the pond flowers that his mother adored and magically kept in bloom in the palace gardens. The midgardians had ones similar. Lotuses, he believed they were called. Draping down It, visible from over Its shoulders, were strings of wires and cords: artificial hair that no doubt also kept whatever it was alive.

        “Who are you? And what do you want?” Thor was at least in his right mind to ask the important questions instead of remaining stupefied like the mortals. It smiled back sharply, as if attempting to mask its distaste.

        “I understand that my daughter, as of late, enlisted your services in thwarting your planet’s imminent doom. I -”

        “Not exactly enlisted. More like absconded with us and agreed to help us.” Stark quickly quipped, the correction souring its expression greatly.

        “Yes.” The venom in the drawn out syllable was unmistakable. “Of course.” It’s head jerked uncomfortably before it continued. “While I appreciate your willingness to aid us, I am afraid that it is ultimately uncalled for. Upon waking from the safety of the Dream, it seems her mind has been muddled. I free you from any bonds you have agreed to under her state of confusion.”

        “Ma’am, with all due respect, we don’t know you or anything about you. And -”

        “Let me just cut to the chase before the Captain here kills you with his formality.” Stark cut in dryly, toying with one of Natasha’s daggers as he stepped in front of the group to greet the figure in the screen fully. “Títånia is our friend. There were no contracts signed or bonds made between parties. We helped each other because we wanted to, nothing more.”

        “You are a fool if you believe that.” It remarked acidicly.

        “Belief is a fickle thing, and thankfully out of your control. That being said, regardless of what you do or do not believe, we will be continuing to help our friend.”

        “That would be most unwise.”

        “Oh?” Stark raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “And why is that?”

        “These are the affairs of the Orokin, not some lesser race. As an inferior species, _mortal_ no less, you are obligated to take no part in them. Besides, your continued aid will only harm her further. You are frail. Your deaths alone would be a burden she should not have to bear.”

        “Woah, hang on a minute. _Lesser_ ? _Mortal_? Are you -”

        “Yes, that includes you, feeble Asgardian.” He was left just as speechless and insulted as his brother.

        “You know, I’ve seen my fair share of dictators in my time, but I have to admit none have been so arrogant as you.” The corners of Steve’s mouth were tight as his eyes challenged the projection pointlessly.

        “This is your one and only warning. I am not as forgiving for the shortcomings of menial sheep. Follow her, chase her, and I will kill you without hesitation. _I_ do not suffer the treachery of lesser races any longer. I will not allow my daughter to be ripped from my arms again.”

        “With all due respect -”

        “Which is none, might I add.”

        “ _Ma’am_.” Steve sent Stark a peeved look before he continued. “She is not your property. You have no right to tell her who she can and cannot be friends with.”

        “Once again, you are incorrect. I have every right. She is my daughter. Mine. _My own_. She is my vassal, as she will be my body. I will not have her spoiled and misled by whatever nonsense you might speak of. Freedom, acceptance - whatever perceptions you so foolishly cling to. They are worthless and meaningless. There is only one truth, one perfection, and that is to be Orokin.” It’s rising voice suddenly cut short, it’s shoulders visibly relaxing. “But it is all right. I will not need to enforce it myself. I will show her the truth, the error in her ways. She will understand what it means to be Orokin, the glorious purpose that is her birthright. Do you think she will stop to stoop so low as to give you a second thought?”

        “Yes.” He surprised even himself with his sudden snap of temper. He was beyond raging beneath the surface, but his control was holding well given the circumstances. “She is not your puppet, or Thanos’. She is her own person, with her own thoughts and feelings. Nothing you teach her or show her will take that from her. When we find you - and we will - it will be my hand clutching hers as we tear the heart from your chest together.”

        It’s face scrunched as it morphed in fury, shoulders rearing back at his audacity. He knew the sensation all too well. A lesser, standing up and threatening their superior? The nerve of him. But he was no _ant_ , no sheep. Even the midgardians, for all their failings, were not those things either - he understood that now.

        “I will not suffer another moment in your presence. Consider yourself warned.” She seethed, the screen blinking out to static and then to darkness a few seconds later.

        “Okay.” Stark let out slowly as they all tried to take in what exactly had just happened.

        “You know, for a while now I’ve been pondering how messed up our family is.” Thor commented softly, nudging him in the side as the others began to argue. “But, there’s always something worse, isn’t there?”

        “Indeed.” Despite his reservations and resentment towards Odin, at least his whole family wasn’t out to kill him - or worse.

        “Okay, mushy-gushy family time is over!” Stark pulled them out of their own little world and into reality where they stood now opposite the concave of the rest of the group. “You guys ready?”

        “For what?” Thor questioned in confusion.

        “To go after her, duh!” A beat of silent disbelief passed over the two of them.

        “What about Jarvis?” Surely Stark was at least somewhat concerned. The Tin Man certainly seemed to enjoy the companionship of the dry-humored AI.

        “You guys really need to pay attention. Jarvis has been fine for, like, a whole thirty seconds. I think. He’s rebooting and running diagnostics. Nothing I can do really.” Wow. Impressive. Really impressive. They were just going to up and leave, just like that. Now, suddenly, after that strange bit of contact, everyone was jumping out of their seat and ready to go. Exactly the opposite of what he was feeling, unfortunately.

        “Stark, she has over thirty puppets, frames - whatever you want to call them - at her disposal.”

        “And we have a Hulk!” Banner scratched his head sheepishly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. “We’ll be fine.” Stark assured them to no avail as he walked behind them and began shoving them towards the portal Strange had conjured on the far wall.

        “I do not have faith in any of you.” He confessed tersely when Thor was out of earshot.

        “Good. Most of us don’t have any in you either.” Stark revealed stoically. Instinctively his back stiffened as Stark wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed lightly. “But I do have faith in her.” His eyes darted to Stark’s, finding the normally sarcastic man completely serious and devoid of mirth. Without another word, Stark slipped his arm free and entered the portal.

         Perhaps Stark was right. Perhaps that was all they could hope to have in this moment of uncertainty and anxiousness: hope that at her core she was still pure and undiluted of whatever corruption Thanos or the Orokin had in store for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered how The Lotus handled confrontations / meetings when not in the presence of the Operator. Around us she's softer I imagine, though still stern - as any mother. But she has a lot of secrets, some of which are incredibly insidious. I wonder if she secretly moves people like pawns in the Sol system while she's there, or if she actively attempts to confront parties and dissuade them - via words or thinly veiled threats.
> 
> Given recent reveals in the continuing story on Warframe, I really wish I had some insight into her relationships with various other factions within the Sol system.


	42. Uncharted Territory

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        They had caught T’Challa in a volatile argument with his sister, Shuri, walking into the midst of her hurtling objects at his agile form. Evidently they were not the only ones with pressing issues. Despite this, T’Challa was quick to oblige them with their request to reenter the Valley, even going so far as to demand his aid. It took a whole night to assure Shuri of his continued safety, but when they woke with the dawn she reluctantly saw them off nonetheless. He thought T’Challa’s insisted presence desperation at first, a panicked attempt to get away from his frothing sister whilst she cooled down. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

        T’Challa did not lead them down into the Valley like they had requested, instead tracing the outer edge that marked the desolation and up to a steep mountain path that winded far past the snow line of the towering peaks above. Natasha and a few of the others were nervous at the prospect. They were not supplied for a hike that far up, the cold would be their undoing. With a pained twitch of his lips, he reminded them that he was indeed there and would at the very least shield them from the worst of the biting wind and frigid air if they so but asked.

        Despite the reservation of the others, Steve, Thor and Natasha were quick to take him up on his offer. Clint did so begrudgingly once he tired of the little warmth his arms supplied him, and the Doctor made due with his own magics. He could only imagine what Stark had under his clothes, and Banner… well, for once the timid man seemed in his element. Whatever power hummed in the scientists blood evidently kept him moderately oblivious to the pain of the cold.

        “How much further?” Natasha called out over a howling whip of wind. No one felt safe upon the mountainside, they all stuck out like a hand of sore thumbs. To make matters worse, each new blitz of snow, each new gust, only served to increase tensions. They had seen few of the powers that her puppets held, but wind and snow were blatantly among them. Here, they were helpless to the elements and it made the urge to get to their destination all the greater.

        “Not much!” T’Challa cried back, yanking Banner up next to him along a thin precipice. “Shuri’s coordinates are just up ahead!”

        “Wait! You’ve never been here?” Steve yelled incredulously.

        “No! Recent seismic activity only recently alerted us to the abnormality under the mountain. We were about to actually enlist your aid, right before you guys popped in.”

        “You were arguing over asking us for help?”

        “Shuri has been receiving… odd messages from what she describes is a sentient machine.”

        “Did the messenger have a flower on their head?” Thor was wonderful at describing things.

        “... No.” T’Challa answered carefully as the whistle of the wind died down and they entered a hollow of ice in the side of the mountain. “Just messages of text, no videos or images. I take it you have?”

        “Yeah… .” Steve trailed off sheepishly, shrugging off the snow that had piled up upon his broad shoulders.

        “So evidently, Titania’s mother is still kicking around. Sort of. She’s not looking to be in the best condition. And she wasn’t too happy about us butting into ‘Orokin affairs’.” Stark pointlessly quoted their antagonist in the air. T’Challa shook his head numbly as he waited from them all to enter the small, confined space. Even though it was gelid, he barely had to exert any power to keep the chill at bay with this many bodies so close together.

        “Perhaps we should have been more cautious in the beginning. I feel like we are in over our heads.”

        “We are.” Natasha confirmed sourly. “She didn’t tell us anything.”

        “Oh really?” He snipped just as tersely. “I didn’t know you even asked. Oh, wait. You didn’t. It’s hard to answer questions that never see the light of day, darling.”

         “Oh yeah? Well did you do any asking then, Loki?” Stark retorted as they helped T’Challa begin to cave in a wall of ice that clearly was not supposed to be there.

        "Not a lot.” He admitted reluctantly. “Honestly, Jane would be the expert here. But, alas, I shall have to do for now.”

        “All right then. What’s the deal with the bioframes? Why does she hold them so endearing?” Natasha did not hold back her curiosity like she trained herself to do around the Lamb. “I understand that they were fashioned in the likeness of those she once knew -”

        “Not fashioned. Morphed. Mutated. How, I do not know. She wouldn’t speak of it. But there were times when she was… not completely herself, when her consciousness was away.”

        “And what did she say then?” Steve was right to be hesitant to ask. He swallowed hard, reminding himself that he would only be speaking the words, and the vibrations themselves were not what had harmed her. Even then, he could not bring himself to utter her whimperings. She was dear now, like Thor. Like mother. He wished that somehow staying silent would ease her pain, even though in reality he knew it would not. “Loki?”

        “It’s fine, brother.” Thor patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, understanding that it took a great deal to drive his silver tongue utterly limp. “Did she say anything about her mother?” He offered a small smile of thanks sideways to his brother before returning his focus on his footing and her memory.

        “She was often confused about the subject. She thought she was dead.”

        “That’s what she told me back when she first woke up. Her mother died, went Voided, right after weaning her.” Natasha reminded them all of the tenuous first days of her awakening.

        “That could have been a thousand years for all we know.” T’Challa butted in.

        “Why is that? Do they age that slowly?”

        “I thought she’d tell you.” T’Challa’s face morphed in bewilderment, but it faded as he nearly slipped along the spiraling cleft jutting out from an ever sinking hole down into the belly of the mountain. “When she first came to me, she let it slip that aging does not occur in the Void. If it weren’t for the other _children_ , though they hardly were such things, she would have been rendered infantile for the rest of the journey.”

        “In any case, despite her jaded memory of her childhood, she distinctly remembers her mother dying.”

        “But what if that’s just what Thanos is forcing her to believe?”

        “I too am under the same conclusion.” He nodded appreciatively to Banner, paying his debt by helping the less than physically adept man across a gap in the ever-narrowing precipice. “Most notably, she attests with great sorrow and rage, that Thanos has her mother’s eyes.”

        “I mean, they were born from the same womb. It’s hardly a stretch to -”

        “No, Steve. As in, Thanos ripped the eyes from her mother and placed them in his own head.”

        “Oh. _Oh_. That’s worse. That’s a lot worse.”

        “Loki, did I ever mention to you that her family is messed up?”

        “Once or twice, brother. Once or twice.”

        “Does the figurehead you spoke to, the one claiming to be her mother - does she have eyes?”

        “Not that we could see.” Clint affirmed grimly. “I mean, she was wearing an odd headdress that covered half her face, with all sorts of wiry-bits hanging out of it. She could have eyes. But somehow I doubt that.”

        “Okay, so let’s assume that, that _is_ her mother.” Stark posed the hypothetical no one wanted to face as he gracefully floated down beside them, lighting their passage with his smugness and repulsor beams. “How far down are we going by the way?”

        “A mile or so.” Several strings of curses ensued from different sources, ricocheting off the hard walls of stone.

        “Does it matter if its her mother?” Natasha asked after seeing herself down to the next barely walkable escarpment.

        “Let’s pretend you’ve been locked up in a lightless cell of thousands of years, never knowing anything. Then you are let out, randomly, and get shocked into living in a world you know but do not understand. Oh, and you have a brother whose out to kill you. And your father is a monster who happened to give you a lot of power. And now your mother, who you thought was dead, has come back into your life, no doubt under the guise of helping you. What would you do?”

        “Well, I’d be suspicious of her.”

        “Would you? Would you really?” Stark egged Natasha on further. “She’s your mother. The only blood of your own that is left.” Despite what Stark might believe, motherhood did not trump all else. Blood did not mean submission. Titania hardly knew her mother. Natasha was right that the Lamb would be suspicious first. Accepting, yes, but suspicious.

        “She may be her mother, but she’s not her family.” He thought the silence just another brought due to the needed concentration to overcome the next downward hurdle that they were facing, but, once they passed it, he realized he may have just said something rather profound and Thor-esque. Perhaps his brother was rubbing of on him. That was good. Hopefully.

        “Loki’s right. I’m not saying throw caution to the wind. We’ll need to be careful. That _thing_ is still charading as her mother. But I don’t think Titania will harm us.”

        “What makes you so sure that she isn’t Titania’s actually mother?” He heard the rustle of Steve’s clothing as the Captain undoubtedly shrugged in the shadows behind him.

        “I don’t know. Just a gut feeling, I guess. She never even called her by name. What sort of parent does that?”

        “She did seem to… objectify her.” Banner commented rationally. “But perhaps that is only due to a difference in social customs. I mean, the Orokin sound like a bunch of assholes really.”

        “All the more reason to get her out of here.”

        “How do we even know she’s here?” Clint finally thought to ask the logical question they should have been asking each other the moment they began their trek up the mountainside. Now they were more than-halfway down into the belly of the beast. Hardly worth bringing it up, unless of course you wanted to bring down moral. Or if you were stupid.

        “That’s… a good point. Please give us a good reason, T’Challa.” Natasha airily begged as she landed with a light tap behind him on the thankfully wide edge they had found. “I really don’t want to climb all the way back up.”

        “Remember how I said Shuri has been receiving messages from a sentient AI?”

        “Somehow, I don’t like the sound of that anymore.” Banner muttered lowly.

        “Did it tell you to go down here? Please tell me that’s _not_ why we’re here. Because if we are -”

        “Stark -”

        “It totally is, isn’t it?”

        “Only partially.” T’Challa grit, though he assumed it was a bit more than that. “Shuri has been picking up odd energy signatures from deep underground. If what we hypothesized was correct - that an entire ship crashed here and was buried… -”

        “Woah! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Steve pulled T’Challa back from his stiff walk. “We’re here to retrieve Titania, nothing more.”

        “That technology could be invaluable. Thanos’ Chitauri use it to some degree, and he’s coming with an army. We need to understand it. Build countermeasures, shields - something to give us an edge.” While he understood the Panther’s genuine concern of the battle to come, T’Challa’s vision was severely blurred.

        “If you think Thanos’ strength lies in his army and his weapons and his ships - then you’ve already been beaten. I’ve told you time and time again - without the Stones, Thanos can’t achieve his goal. The Chitauri are like ants, nothing more. If you must sow disorder, take out his lieutenants. But do not focus on the Chitauri.”

        “And when Thanos is defeated, his command shattered? What do we do then? Let the Chitauri ravage the Earth?”

        “Look, we’re here for Titania. At least, _I’m_ here for Titania.” Steve spat at them scathingly. “Is she here, or not?”

        “According to our mysterious messenger, she is. Or will be. He was rather cryptic.”

        “He?”

        “It… called itself a father, whose daughter had strayed.” T’Challa reluctantly informed them. His eyes narrowed, nosing twitching ever so slightly as he caught wind of mild duplicity.

        “Oh for fuck’s sake, not this again.” Stark hissed under his breath.

        “I thought her father was the Void.” Banner recalled the obvious thought running through all their heads. “And isn’t he dead?”

        “It never mentioned that _she_ was his daughter, did it?”

        “Only gave us the location of her.” Stark sarcastically jabbed at Steve harshly.

        “What aren’t you telling us?” He slyly stole a look back at T’Challa, pointedly ignoring the rest of the growing commotion and focusing on the sly king and their continued descent. The rest of them quieted down, taking a small comfort in his innocent inquiry - knowing that he never did anything innocently.

        “He told us _not_ to come here, actually.”

        “Oh. Well that’s good. Might as well start climbing back -”

        “Stark.” T’Challa cut him short with no room for rebuttal. “Titania is also not his daughter in question.”

        “Well, that’s good. But?” Thor’s patience was wearing thin. For once it seemed like his brother was getting fed up with the inconsistency of midgardians.

        “But it wishes her to remain here nonetheless. We were warned not to… meddle in affairs we would not understand.”

        “Well, that certainly sounds familiar.” Clint remarked sarcastically. “Maybe it was our mysterious antagonist all along. You did say that they gave no method of communication other than text messages, yes?”

        “Yes… .” T’Challa drifted off as one by one they landed upon a smooth, dusted surface lit only by the soft buzzing of Stark’s repulsor beams and chest projector. “Doctor.” He had forgotten the Doctor was even with them until T’Challa called upon him. Strange was even quieter than usual.

        “Yes?” The anxiety bubbling within T’Challa was contagious, but they knew better than to listen to it and held their ground.

        “If we do run into… opposition, if we cannot seem to be able to find a weakness, can you teleport us out of here?” The Doctor’s head tilted as he inspected T’Challa’s apprehensive form.

        “I can, but the door I make you will need to run through. I cannot simply pop you from one place to the next. And if you aren’t quick enough, they can follow.” T’Challa’s lips pursed, but he nodded all the same. “If you have any information on what we might be dealing with, then perhaps -”

        “Other than her puppets?” T’Challa took in a deep breath. “There have been… sightings. Missing scouts. It is what prompted us to watch this region closer, and led us to launch a more thorough investigation. It wasn’t long after that we were contacted, although by then we had lost another fifteen brave men.”

        “Did you ever find out what slaughtered them?” Natasha’s hands were steady, but constantly gripping her daggers at her sides.

        “There were no bodies.” T’Challa grimaced, battling with himself on whether or not to reveal something he wished not to. “In truth, the energy signal that we locked on to - the one we can track - it is not foreign, though the alien signal does reside here at times.”

        “What are you saying?” Steve questioned, unable to piece the puzzle together himself.

        “He’s saying his men aren’t dead.” Clint rephrased it bluntly enough for Steve to understand it. “Aren’t you?”

        “We have been tracking them through the interfaces in their suits. Unfortunately, the locators seem to be the only part left responding. Camera visual, audio, and even shields have either been damaged or disabled.”

        “It would have been nice to know what we were heading into.” Clint growled at T’Challa as he moved past.

        “Would you have come?” T’Challa retorted.

        “Fuck no. That’s the point.”

        “I could transport you out right now, if you wish.” The Doctor offered, but Clint shook his head. He stole a cursory glance at Thor who shrugged in response. Might as well continue forward. This was their only lead after all. They had pressed on with less information before.

        “I’m already here. Might as well see what happens and try not get killed. Who knows, maybe we won’t all die horribly.” Swallowing the butterflies in his chest, he prayed he was doing the right thing and followed them into the shifting darkness ahead. May Frigga watch over them all.


	43. Shattering The Dream

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        I awoke to the dim light of Orokin lamps set into the wall, upon a stiff bed and an even harder pillow. For all their opulence, the Orokin did not seem one for small comforts. Or perhaps whoever that was in the courtyard had not deigned to grant me them. I grimaced as I rolled my legs off the ‘bed’ and stretched, cracking my spine in several places as it groaned silently to tell me of its mistreatment. What even happened? I shook my head numbly, trying to recall. My whole mind felt fuzzy, like the skin of a peach, right now.

        I winced as the door to my cell slid open, blinding white light flooding the once contently lit room. Blinking, I stood, trying to dilate my eyes fast enough to take in the visage of my captor before I was knocked out again. Slowly their - her - form came into focus from the blaring world outside. Even now, cast in harsh shadows… I knew her face.

        It was… mangled. Only the lower portions remained intact: her nose, her lips, her jaw. I swallowed hard, my mind suddenly jogged by her image. Within moments I was bombarded with memories best left forgotten. The squelching of her eyes popping out of their sockets, her screams as I tore off her ears, the taste of bile right before I passed out. I was just a child, and they used me to break her, mind and body. That was the last I saw of her. Even then, she still had her beautiful silver locks of hair. Now, all that draped behind her were royal purple cords: a testament to my brother’s inability to properly control the technocytes.

        My nostrils flared at the briefest thought of my brother. I almost spat physically as I did so mentally upon his memory. _Thanos_ . That retch of a boy, the bastard who should have been born a bastard, the quintessence of a monster, the man who never had a heart - I remembered him. Every. Minute. Detail. Every pore in his skin; the curve of his nails as they dug into flesh; the twist of his lips as he enacted his version of cruel justice upon the world; the way his voice curled my gut when he spoke of bringing about balance to the multiverse. His smile that spoke volumes of his inner, peaceful, malevolence. I remembered _everything_.

        “Oh daughter mine. Has he still somehow retained his grip upon you?” I broke out of my trance, realizing that I was glaring at one of the few who had tried to protect me despite knowing the consequences.

        “No.” I quickly lowered my gaze, ashamed that I had displayed such anger before her. She deserved only happiness and comfort now for the life she would live - a luxury in and of itself. “Thank you. For saving me.”

        “Of course, oh child mine. Of course.” She stepped closer, arms stretched out, until at last she reached my timid form. I wasn’t sure how to greet her. She was my mother, after all. I should love her, should I not? I owed her so much for the agony I dealt her, even if none of it was by my own will. “Why do you hide your face from me? Does my visage displease you?”

        “No, mother.” I quickly replied, not wishing for her to think me so shallow as to deem my eyes only worthy to set upon that which was labelled beautiful by the masses. I did not care for their definition of beauty. “I just… .” She waited patiently for me to find the words I wanted to say to her, smiling tenderly as she cupped by cheeks and tilted my head upwards until my eyes met her sightless gaze. “I did that to you. You. My mother. I -”

        “Yes, you did.” She agreed without a hint of malice, yet it still pierced my heart all the same.

        “Does it… hurt? Can you still feel? Can you see me, the same way I see you? Or is it just… data.” I ended lamely, numbly.

        “It has not hurt for a very long time.” She assured me, hands dropping from my cheeks and finding my own. Gently she tugged me out the door, clutching my hand in her own as she walked me down the halls of my youth. “I can feel still. It islimited, but I can. As for sight… well, perhaps it is best my eyes are gone. I would have drowned half the ship in tears by now otherwise.”

        “Mother -”

        “Oh come now. It has been a long time. I am allowed to joke about it.” She teased, elbowing me sweetly in the ribs. A hesitant smile twitched across my lips. I couldn’t recall her ever being so jovial before. She was always serious and poker-faced, what little I knew of her anyways. Sweet, graceful, but always serious. But that was well over three thousand years ago, long enough to change a person.

        “What happened? I thought you were dead.”

        “That is what he wanted you to believe, nothing more.” I nodded, understanding this already. But it didn’t answer my question.

        “So what happened?” I continued to pry, and though nothing in her body changed, I felt the air around her grow… taught.

        “Does it matter?” I was taken aback by her sudden secretiveness, though I withheld from showing it. She had the right body, the right skin, the right voice - but it all felt… wrong. Too much of my mind was still at a loss, my only memories of family and companionship now ones of betrayal and pain. Mother or not, I did not trust her.

        “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” I reluctantly agreed to drop the subject, letting her lead me casually back through the halls. Her lips twitched upwards then down before stilling.

         “Please, do not take that the wrong way. My own trials and tribulations are not yours to shoulder. You have endured much suffering already. I would spare you some, if I could.” The unease in my chest abated for the time being, and I nodded my understanding and acceptance to her as we came across a section I knew well.

         I remembered these halls as I saw them from the eyes of a child, the trip now less physical than spiritual. There was the corner where I took a wrong turn after running from a group of twisted Voided. There was the alcove where I hid behind the tree, though said tree had now breached the floor, wall, and ceiling. There was the bench were Harrow taught me to read from the files Ivara had stolen. There were so many memories that bled from these walls, sights and sounds that I knew - but had never recalled until now.

        “You used to love tending to the gardens here.” She informed me as we entered the same courtyard as before, this time veering off to take a side exit. But her words fell on deaf ears: I already remembered. I felt my lips curve up of their own accord as my gaze followed my old haphazard path up a much shorter tree that once bore fruit. I recalled the slap of the ground as I fell time and time again, but I remembered: I got that fruit, and many more after. Not for me, for I never cared much for such things. It was good, but… Thanos was right. I really didn’t need it. I gave the first one to Thanos himself, even. He was exceptionally forgiving that day.

        I halted, handing slipping from her’s as I bent over to inspect the glowing purple bells in the sand. They reminded me of something. Of someone. I blinked as I caressed them, pulling out one of their wrinkled hearts. Of course. These were what T’Challa’s people had been using to communicate with their ancestors. How could I have forgotten? Not just of the herb, but of T’Challa… and the rest of them. Steve, Stark, Thor, Loki - it was difficult to remember them, their familiar forms blurred as if they were submerged in murky water.

        “Is something the matter?” She called back once she finally noticed my absence by her side.

        “No. I just wanted to feel these again. They’re beautiful.” I wasn’t sure why I lied. There was nothing to fear here. Not anymore. She had saved me from a life of servitude and sacrifice under the one person I both feared and hated. Yet, something was nagging me. I returned the heart of the herb to its cocoon, telling myself that I was merely being paranoid.

        All my life, I had been expected to act according to another’s whims. Nothing was free. Everyone want something in return for their ‘generosity’, sometimes it just happened to agreeable. What then, was the cost of my freedom? I already sensed her attempts at persuasion, the veil she had put between my memories of the others and myself. If I had not spotted the herbs, I would forgotten the cherished moments of companionship all together. Perhaps I was right to be paranoid.

        “Come.” She smiled widely, though her teeth remained hidden, as she extended her hand once more for me to take. I obliged slowly, taking my time to drink in my surroundings. Her cheek twitched, but her smile never faltered. So she was annoyed at my casual demeanor? A pity. And here I was enjoying re-experiencing my bittersweet childhood memories.

        “Where are we going?” I had seen enough of the ship now to recollect a general layout, though I was having trouble remembering what parts had been destroyed. She ignored my curiosity, instead retorting with her own mildly acidic inquiry.

        “Does the child always get to know?”

        “I am no longer a child.” Her stride faltered, and I felt her sightless gaze pass over me.

        “No. I suppose you are not. I am... sorry. I am too used to the mindless inquiries of the warframes.” I chuckled lightly to mask my disdain. It did not bode well with me that she scorned the pitiful state of the frames, regardless of whether or not they understood or cared about their situation. They were not lesser beings, though I know many would consider them such.

        “You need a mind to ask.” I lightly hid my reprimand in a tease, baiting her into revealing her true nature. She let out an amused huff as she agreed, passing for now on showing her true colors.

        “You need a tongue as well.” Not necessarily, but I refrained from commenting further, knowing that I would be the one stepping out of bounds this time. “As for where we are heading, I had Saryn prepare a meal for you. I did not think you would remember your way to the mess hall so -”

        “You had _Saryn_ make me meal?” I couldn’t help but scoff. Her head tilted in bewilderment.

        “Yes. Is that a problem?” Did she even know what Saryn’s capabilities were? What she was meant to do? She was the embodiment of a walking plague, made to generate and spread highly contagious and deadly poisons in a matter of seconds. She was _not_ someone you wanted as a chef. Still, I didn’t want Saryn’s reunion with me to wind up running her into trouble, so -

        “No. I’m just surprised is all. I never thought to use them for such menial tasks.” I mimicked her earlier contempt for the frames in an effort to mask my trepidation.

        “You never had to, my child. It is a whole different game, now that you are awake.” Speaking of being awake, how did I end up in that pod all the way out there, in the Valley - the middle of nowhere for all intents and purposes. My last waking memories still had me aboard the ship. In the darkest dark, with no sound, or food, and even less air - but aboard the ship nonetheless. Had she placed me there? How long had she been walking the waking world? I set the questions aside from another time, when I was free of her presence and allowed to indulge my curiosity. Making her suspicious and guarded now would do me no good.

        “Ah, good. It appears she has finished.” My mother seemed extraordinary pleased, ushering me off towards the waiting Saryn with eagerness. “I am sure you two will enjoy reconnecting. I will see you later, oh child mine.” I refrained from raising an eyebrow at her abrupt rush. Someone had somewhere to be all of a sudden.

        “Of course.” I granted her a small, polite twist of the lips before turning, nothing more. If she wished to treat me so indifferently, then I had no qualms of returning the favor. “Shall we?” I turned my attention to Saryn, who was still waiting expectantly.

        Her curvaceous form told me she once was a beauty in her own right, but it had been distorted by cancerous metal growths upon her right thigh and upper back. Her arms were covered in a thin sheet of organic chitinous material that made vibranium seem as flimsy as paper, and her shoulders were extruded from the rest of her torso to give room internally to house her spore production mechanisms safely. All in all, she was never meant to be a chef. Then again, I suppose mother was right - none of them were. It pained me to see them used so flippantly for tasks that I, or my mother, could have handled.

        From what little I remembered her in my youth, she favored work done by hands - not done vicariously. She was unlike the Orokin in that, and many other, regards. I remembered the touch of her calloused fingertips, worn from years upon years of labor that the rest of her kind looked down upon. Perhaps it was that love that intrigued my father to begin with. It was hard to say. All I knew now was that time had changed who I once knew. And not in a good way. Or perhaps I never knew her all together. But perhaps I was being rash. It had only been a couple of hours since I regained consciousness.

        I shook my head as I followed Saryn into the dilapidated mess hall. It was evident she tried her best to clean up what she could as ordered, but there was only so much she could do without further instruction. They weren’t completely mindless, but I dubbed them puppets for a reason. The debris that was not required structurally was shoved into one, shadowed corner. Some of the lights were sparking, indents of agitated fingers revealing that they might not have worked at all at one point. She nodded curtly towards the table, graced with a lone solitary object in a plastic bag. Worried about contamination, was she?

        My lips drew into a tight, grimace - bearly making it to a smile as she stood upon the opposite end of the small dining area. This was _incredibly_ awkward, as if I was being judged for the quality of the food as well as how I ate it. Taking my seat, I finally gave my meal the appropriate attention it deserved, mainly in an attempt to block out Saryn’s expectancy, only to still. My head tilted in confusion. The bag was not of Orokin make, but of the common human variation. The contents of it were familiar, not exotic. This… was not of her make, was it?

        My eyes flickered towards her stiff form and back down as I gingerly inspected my food. It was a sandwich, I think. Or it was about a week ago. Where the bread wasn’t molded over in green and white, it was hard and crumbly. There was no telling what was in it before, for now it was mostly liquid and discolored sliced meat. My nose crinkled of it’s own accord, and I immediately felt Saryn’s anxiety flood my mind. Had she gotten something I didn’t like? I chuckled nervously, realizing that while she intended well, and she was right in her rational that I could eat _anything_ and not get sick, I did happen to have some standards as to what I imbibed if I decided to do so.

        “Where did you even get this?” I wondered in mild amusement, trying to hold my stomach in place. Loki had always been against such things. Anything dirty in an unsightly fashion, anything he found disgusting or that society found revolting - he detested them vehemently. He’d put up with them if he had to, but not without complaint. His whining had rubbed off on me it seemed. Normally, I would understand the nature of it’s distastefulness but not care. Now, all it reminded me of was the taste of bile on the back of my tongue.

        I flipped the bag over when she gave no answer other than sullen shame and silent apology, taking it into my own hands to find the answers I wanted.

        “K’Shan.” I murmured the faded scrawling on the front of the bag. In a blur, it was ripped from my hands and eaten away by Saryn’s spores. “That’s a Wakandan name.” I breathed as a horrid realization dawned. “Where did you get that?” I stood with such force as to knock over the bench I had been sitting upon, pointing an accusatory finger at Saryn’s agitated form. “Answer me!”

        She frowned in her thoughts, unsure of what to do. I felt it, the urge to speak her mind - she was, after all, forced to obey my orders. But each time it rose up, it was stomped out by an even greater will than her own. So mother was not using them as protectors and aids, but as slaves. But for what purpose? It was clear that Saryn was intended to be my escort for the time being, that much I knew. But what then was mother trying to hide?

        I straightened by back, glaring at Saryn’s ever blank face - knowing that this was not her fault, but seeing no other choice but to make her dance a little longer. I never liked oppressing what little was left of them, I tried to grant them freedom whenever I could - but this was unallowable.

        “I am Titania, Sovereign and True. I will not accept your silence, or your resistance. Only your submission.” My soft, icy decree wormed it’s way into her neural pathways, racing along the energy that I was inside her veins, and forcing her to bow to my will. I felt her fear as my fire coursed through her body, a little more of what was left eroded away; saw the world as she did, as I once did. I saw her memories: the scouts that ventured closer and closer each day; felt the dismay of their imminent doom with each nearing step. She didn’t want to, but she killed them. Their blood painted the mountainside red as she dragged them - no. My heart shivered in my chest as I wrenched myself free from her mind, rendering her inept and comatose for the time being.

        No, she did not kill them. She did something far, far worse. What in the name of the Void was mother doing?

        I awoke Saryn, wiping her clean of recent events and thanked her for a wonderful meal. She quivered for a few seconds, jittering her systems back online, trying to account for the lost time. For a brief second, her mind cleared. Then something malicious savaged her core, rendering her a mere sentient, soulless, machine entirely. So it wasn’t a Link, but something else all together. Not of the Void, for I would have noticed that the moment it reinserted itself. What then?

        “Saryn, I have need of you.” She righted herself, standing at attention for her commands. “Go to mother, tell her that I am pleased and express my sincere gratitude. I would enjoy more of these in the future. Perhaps, if you are not busy, you might teach me how to recreate such delicacies in the future.”

        Her head nudged forward in bewilderment, but she accepted the order nonetheless. “Oh, before you go: let mother know that I will be in the courtyard should she need me.” She tilted her head stiffly, then made her way out.

        Oh, I’d be in the courtyard all right. I’d just also be other places as well. Though Loki had meant to only train me in his modest skill of daggers, I couldn’t help but pick up a bit of his more finer tricks along the way. My conscious mind at the time only thought of the training as a method of understanding their unique fighting styles and their inherent flaws. My subconscious, however, was the naive child that found his magic breathtaking. Now that I was free of Thanos’ will, I found I attained the perks of both. Fate always worked in odd ways.

         I could only pray that it also worked in my favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!  
> I'm so sorry for not updating this for a bit! Life has gotten suuuuuper busy recently.  
> So far, on the list:  
> 1) Getting a house (well, there goes all our money).  
> 2) Grandma went to Mayo, so that was a added stress to the weeks as well. Learned some stuff that made me super pissed, but I'm glad she's in good hands now. That's what matters, or so I keep telling myself.  
> 3) Decided to go back to college for a second degree. Because, buying a house wasn't enough. 
> 
> Anyways, I should be uploading three chapters tonight (including this one). If I don't get to the last one tonight, it'll be uploaded tomorrow. 
> 
> Again, sorry for the unexpected break!


	44. What Matters The Most

 

[](https://ibb.co/cWrK7p)

 

 

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        Though I was only viewing them vicariously through a holographic clone, the winding corridors of the vessel felt heavy and ominous. In some areas a fine dust lay an inch thick, threatening to drown out what life clung to the ship’s decaying corpse, in others the automated air scrubbers still worked, leaving everything eerily pristine. I shook my head in my mind, my clone mimicking the action. So much had been lost, crushed in the impact, even more as the molten rock covered and cooled atop it’s remains. Though parts remained operable, some even intact, the ship would never fly again, that much was certain. Too many aether channels had been broken, too many Void conduits cracked and rendered inept. 

        I found that despite the lack of sunlight and working UV radiators, the plant life within the darkened recesses of the ship still flourished. Not because of tender care - after all, even if my mother did tend the gardens still, she could not manage the whole ship herself - but because they had learned to feed off the Void itself. Such energy had long since mutated the innocent life into something ethereal and otherworldly, but it thrived nonetheless. I could feel it pulse with a thousand little heartbeats, crawling up the lengths of vines and trunks alike.

        It was close here, the Void. The Veil that existed between this realm and that which lay in between was extraordinarily thin, no doubt a consequence of the rip I had caused with the use of the once dormant Void Portal. Though it no longer drew power from what was left of the ship’s reservoirs, I suspected that it was caught in a positive feedback loop just strong enough to sustain a connection to feed itself. Thankfully, the Veil was never breached entirely, merely stretched a bit farther.

        The further I went, padding cautiously upon silent feet, the more I realized how much I had been kept from. There were rooms upon rooms of antiques and relics, useless things that only served now as baubles of a forgotten time; valuable space that could have been used to house more refugees or the injured. Instead, the Orokin valued these trinkets denoting their triumphs and conquests rather than the lives that made up their empire. A telling sign of how avaricious they were, and how little they cared for those not within the highest echelons of their society.

        Even worse were the armories. Quantum, technocyte, and brutish kinetic forges were all ready and operational, shielded deep within the ship. These were the Orokin’s treasure, their fangs with which they would not part. If they were truly to burn out, let their legacy be one that eventually smote the rest of the universe with it. I shuddered slightly. I knew what the forges could make. They made the slipshod attempts the Chitauri, or the humans, or whoever designed them, look like children’s toys. Even lesser, perhaps. This… this was the arsenal of the gods. Even Loki, for all his boasting of Asgardian weaponry, would not be able to deny the obscene power and capability a single blade made here could offer.

        It finally dawned on me in the middle of an empty hall. This ark - was not meant for the Orokin empire as a whole, but those who were deemed worthy enough, close enough to the pinnacle of perfection that they greedily reached for. A rebirth of their race, an attempt to use their fall from lofty heights to enforce their perceived perfection. 

        Thanos wasn’t just livid and jealous of his sister, the one family member I never knew, because mother favored her more. She wasn’t supposed to have been aboard the ship. She was supposed to have been left behind with the rest of those deemed lesser, the daughter of a sire belonging to no house of note. No one, not even mother, could have convinced the council to let her aboard. How then did it come to be? Was she merely lucky she was brought aboard with the rest of the children? It seemed too coincidental. 

        My brow furrowed as I set aside the quandary for a later time when I knew people’s lives weren’t at stake. Or, at the very least, less at stake. Something terrible was afoot here, something that even the Orokin would shy from - and they refrained from very few horrible acts. Sometimes I wondered who corrupted who. After all, the Orokin were cruel and sadistic long before they came in contact with the Void. They too looked down upon simple deaths as a means of punishment, though not of mercy. 

        It was much more enjoyable to have your enemies dote upon you and serve you unquestionably whilst you mocked them over dinner, than have to eat amongst a pile of corpses. And if memory served, which I found it did much easier now, Father was much more lenient and doting than my previously bound self would have liked to believe.

        I grimaced, knowing that I was barely scratching the surface of the horrible truth that lay just waiting for me to upturn. Everything I knew was a lie yet again. I didn’t have to wake from a pod to a different perception of reality to feel just as estranged and jarred. It was even more unsettling to vividly recall the memories, the emotions, in my mind and know, understand even, that they were not my own. Not entirely. All that was entirely mine in the past eight or so months were the tenuous bonds I made with the quicklings. Those were most likely dissolved by now. I attacked them, ran from them. I was yet again nothing but a mark, a target for the Widow’s knives or the Hawk’s arrows.

        A shiver of anxious tension shuddered down my spine, tightening around it until my muscles were taught and aching. They would follow me yet again; chase me, hunt me. I would have wanted them to, if not to explain and reconcile then at least to grant them a proper goodbye. Now I was terrified of their coming, of what might happen should they venture too close to the mountain. They would get caught, no doubt. It would be almost impossible for them to slip past with the frames ever vigilant, guarding the few mountain passes that led to breachable entrances. And then? Then they would face a fate far worse than death, far worse than becoming a frame.

        I wouldn’t, couldn’t, let that happen.

        Perhaps I was still naive in thinking them friends and perhaps even allies, but I didn’t care. Or rather, I did care. For them. They had taught me that not all beings were lesser, that not all faults were flaws. Sometimes, the imperfections caused them to sparkle in ways a perfect surface would never. I smiled softly to myself, letting my heart bathe in the sweetness of their memories. Early mornings to the smell of burnt pancakes and lilting laughter, wrapped under the comforts of a warm blanket and next to an even warmer body. Yes. They were something worth protecting, something worth bleeding for.

        My head snapped upwards at the sound of unholy screeching, the howling of beasts that knew nothing other than the urge to kill and consume in order spread their disease. I knew not how they had been released, more likely  _ made _ . The technocytes were depleted, their generators long since jettisoned and burnt as they plummeted, and mother - the mother I once knew - never had a hand in their creation. She should not have known how to restock the forges. Perhaps in the last thousand or so years she spent her time unwisely, relearning all that should have remained lost. All I knew in this moment was the sound of their frenzied, salivating yips as they tore through the maze of hallways: they had caught scent of something, of someone. 

        I raced after them, using what I could recall to map out the ship’s level, trying to predict what parts would have collapsed or been crushed, as my clone sprinted through the corridors, trying to beat them to whoever it was. They were close, but far - frantically slamming on the other side of a wall through rubble that shook in terror at what clawed at it. I was close too, it seemed. 

        I sprinted onwards, taking the left that led up rather than the downwards right spiral, knowing that whoever it was most likely came from the surface. I rounded the corner with ease, after all non corporeal forms held no momentum, nor did they tire, and passed through a wide-eyed, alarmed group before my mind caught up my actions.

        “Well, fancy running into you here.” Stark quipped dryly. I felt the blood in my veins still in horror, knowing that the wall would not last. They were far more efficient in giving chase than I originally thought, both my dear friends and their would be doom. We barely had a minute, if that.

        “You need to leave.” I demanded, eyes darting around, trying to find them a suitable out before landing on the Doctor. Oh thank the Void within for Strange.

         “Yeah, your mother said that you’d say that -”

         “Strange, you need to teleport all of you out of here.” I ignored the ramblings of the ever talkative, garrulous Stark.

         “Not without -”

         “You don’t understand!” I cried out, louder than I should have. My eyes fixed on the hallway behind them. “You’re in danger. Grave danger. Get out. Get out now!”

         “You know, just in case, I think I’m going to -” Strange interrupted himself as he opened a doorway back to Wakanda. It was hard to see past the looming shoulders to where he would take them, but at the very least I could assume it was not here. For the moment, that was all that was needed.

         “I will contact you, when I can. When it’s safe.”

         “Títånia.” Natasha stepped forward, daggers still at the ready as she tilted her head in nervous agitation. “What is coming?” The howling dark of the hall beyond finally reached their ears and they all paled.

         “Something worse than death.” I whispered hoarsely. “Now go!”

         “What about you?” Loki growled, an aggressive, desperate hand making for my arm only to pass through it.

         “I will be fine. For now. I just have to be careful.  _ You _ need to stay safe.” I assured them all hurriedly, motioning to the portal. “Please.” I begged for the first time I could remember. It was agonizing not being able to exert my will upon them, to force them through the portal if they hesitated too long.

         “Come on.” Thor growled, shoving Natasha and Clint through the portal and grabbing Loki to drag him through. “You will contact us. Promise this.”

         “I will. I promise.” I vowed, thankful and stern, staring the God of Thunder unafraid in his sky blue eyes. He nodded, content for now, and prodded a peeved, and no doubt dubious, Loki alongside him. The others all but bolted for the portal as the two Asgardians made it through, though Strange took a few final parting moments for himself.

         “Are you sure you will be fine?” Even now, as fear radiated from his white skin and dilated eyes, he was still as heroic as ever. 

         “Nothing is ever sure.” I wanted to lie at first, to agree so that he would depart quickly. But he knew better. “But I will survive, and so will you. That is all I can hope for right now.” He pursed his lips, shoulders leaning forward to argue - but then the rapid baying grew even closer and he knew there was nothing left now to do but flee. He nodded, passing through the ring of sparking magic, and with a wave of his hand upon the other side the dim firelight subsided all I was left to was the dismayed yowls from around the corner.

         I grimaced as the pack I knew awaited stalked around the corner, sniffing the air experimentally when they noticed my form. I felt myself blanch despite the safety I clung to within the confines of my mind, but managed to hold my ground. They were the scouts, all right. Some, not all of them. 

        Their spines broken and molded anew, they moved in a grotesque, unnatural quadrupedal fashion. Their backs hugged the ground just high enough to give their crooked necks space to gaze up with their pointless heads. Some of them were already missing limbs, only hooks of melded, crimson-stained ivory bone for hands or feet were left. All of them were completely integrated with their vibranium-alloy armor. It couldn’t quite take the intense tension of their morphed forms and had burst along their stomachs - now their backs, I supposed - their ribs fanned above their lowered heads between their arms like a headdress of long since coagulated blood and rotting flesh.

        This, this is what happened when the technocytes were not controlled properly, when the Void rejected the user or the victim, or both. When power found a vessel too weak, and the will was not strong enough to compensate. I thought Thanos’ Voided, his Chitauri, vile and wretched. But they could speak. They could think. These… these were nothing but dumb beasts. These were not Voided, but something the Orokin once feared and constructed the horrible weapons to combat. These were the Infested, the product of technocytes gone rogue, a biotech disease that if left unchecked and left to grow would consume all the life upon this planet.

        They whined lowly upon understanding that I was not prey, heaving through and past my form to continue their patrol of the ship in search of something worth consuming. For a moment, I was tempted to follow them. I wanted to know where they went, if there was any danger of them finding the surface. But I stopped myself before I continued on that silly notion. These were not the Infested I had read about. These were different in a way. Less erratic. They were acting almost like trained mutts, bred and molded for specific tasks. I didn’t know my mother well, but I could think of no one else who would do such a thing. If anyone even knew about a strand of unrestrained technocytes, it would be her - given that she was once a high ranker scientific member of the Orokin council, an Archimedean as they called them at that time. At least, I hoped my mind wasn’t merely making up details now.

        I shook my head in disgust. Had so much time passed already in her eternity of living that she had forgotten the horrors the Orokin empire wrought? Though the people in time did rise up against them, it was their own insidious, overlooked creations that struck the blow that crippled their stature just enough so that they were helpless as the rats swarmed and began their feast. Even I, who had only read and watched what files Ivara could pull, knew better than to ever loose technocytes on the unprepared and without the proper containment. Not even Thanos was willing to harbor that thought. Planned sadistic torture and cruelty was one thing, but uncaring indolence intermixed brought it to a whole new level of appalling.

        Mother or not, she was neither my friend nor my ally at the moment. Too much was left unexplained, too much left to chance. There were wrongs she needed to rectify, and I found I cared little for the blood we shared. I had to admit, that stung a bit. A part of me, the naive, foolish little girl inside, wanted to have faith in this mutilated woman that called me her own. I wanted a mother. I wanted a family. I wanted somewhere I belonged. Though eager to see and understand the world, I was not a vagabond at heart. 

        Want, want, want - I sounded like a whiny child. Perhaps I was. My time with Loki and the others had made me soft with desire. But I could not bring myself to condemn it, to throw their affections away as if they were nothing. For they weren’t. They were everything. They slaked the thirst I had buried deep inside me and denied, without daring to question. And now with their short leave I found myself craving their tenderness even more with each passing second. I… missed them.

        I released my apparition, returning to my own vision of the peaceful, empty courtyard. Clearing my throat, I caressed the silken shell of a heart-shaped herb before me as I soothed my mind with memories of comfort. Perhaps when all of this was over, when I uncovered the horrible truth and dealt with my mother-or-not, I would be the one to tell grand tales to Loki. 

        I had never spoken much about my past or the Orokin to him, but he had never asked either. Too afraid to push past boundaries that I, too, was afraid of. It was a tad unfair I realized now. He had shown me that which he dared not even show his brother, maybe even his mother. There were things that I had seen and known that they did not, just as they were privileged to other secrets of his. He… trusted… me. I think. I hoped. I wasn’t sure entirely. He was an enigma that I, more often than not, pushed to the side and ignored, hoping that he would solve himself one day. 

       I shook my head, clucking the roof of my mouth as I chided myself internally. Now was not the time to wade through my newly obtain nostalgia, not unless I wished it to remain just that. I need to keep hold of the remnants of my delusional self, the cunning pathways that I purposefully carved to once bring myself some semblance of freedom. Looking back on it now, I hardly even understood the notion of true freedom. But it mattered not. I only needed to be duplicitous and silver-tongued. I needed to gain mother’s unconditional trust and affection, as well as the Frame’s - if there was anything left within them. 

      The corners of my mouth twitched upwards despite my anxiousness. I had never consciously attempted to lie or trick someone. Not like this. Always it had been the subconscious’ work. And I found that despite my obvious lack of experience in the matter, I was all too eager to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just dawned on me that I promised to begin translating some of the Orokin text summaries.  
> So, to make good on that promise:
> 
> Chapter 31: The Queen's Refuge
> 
> "My daughter,  
> Time goes on forever, even the Void does not change that.  
> I do not ask forgiveness for my sins, or for the sins of the Orokin.  
> We do not deserve forgiveness, just as we received no mercy.  
> All I wish for you now is happiness, though I know that may never happen.  
> All of creation despairs at our savior and our death.  
> But, through the eons, if this reaches you, I want you to know I love you.
> 
> Margulis"
> 
> Chapter 35: The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
> 
> "They have come. Come not for out lives, but our souls.  
> We made a terrible, unforgivable sacrifice so that we might flee.  
> But it matters not.  
> Ten thousand years will pass, and the Orokin will rise again.  
> Ten thousand years will pass, and the Hunter shall remain.  
> Ten thousand years will pass, and we will be forced to flee again.  
> Ballas and the other Executors do not understand.  
> We created this scourge, it is only fitting it be our undoing.  
> But they want to live forever.  
> They reside within Eternity, but it lays just beyond their grasp.  
> Now, they want for my children, for my daughter.  
> Then think the bond of motherhood a weakness, but it is strength.  
> It has given me the courage to do what I should have done long ago."


	45. Promises to Keep

 

[](https://ibb.co/j5WdiU)  


 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

        He tried to remain calm, tried being the operative word. His temper was short, his sanity fraying with each passing minute that felt like a day. She had yet to reach out to anyone, through any medium. Surely it wouldn’t strain her to enter their minds as she had once so flippantly done so before. His jaw clenched as he did his best to veer his mind from the subject.

        It had only been two days since they fled, but it felt akin to two months. Even Thor was now berating him, lowly reminding him to curb his frustration and vent it, if not in a productive manner, then at least as one that refrained from lashing out at the others. They were her friends too, and just as worried, Thor was quick to remind him. But they had little to go on, and it was hard to argue against her frantic form and the horrifying screeching that chased her from the bowels of the crashed ship.

        It irked him beyond reason that the Wakandans didn’t even know it was there, sitting under their noses since their beginning. With their technology they should have noticed the change wave frequencies traveling through the vibranium, someone should have stumbled upon it, or dug into part of it - something, anything. But no. It was conveniently accessed through mountains rarely climbed, beneath holy ground, and through enough vibranium that it would take centuries at the current rate to hit the predicted edge of the buried ship.

        He tsked, the whole room flinching before he rolled his eyes and turned the page of one of the books he attempted to busy himself with. What was it on again? He momentarily flipped back to the cover. Ah yes, the surface and bulk properties of vibranium and how to manipulate them. Shuri eyed him warily when he took it from her desk, but knew better than to argue with him at the moment. He could hardly recall the introduction let alone the first few chapters. He would have to re-read it once his mind was clear, once she was back at his side. 

        With a sharp intake of breath through his nostrils, he did his best to immerse himself in the technical writing once more only to be jarred out of it by the soft buzzing beep of his Kimoyo beads that once more graced his arm. T’Challa was insistent they wear them at all times, unsure if what haunted them in the depths of the darkness would continue to do so under the stars. It was better to be safe than sorry. Still, he hadn’t set any alarms, nor was it a message from one of the others. Someone or something had forced him into a private chat it seemed. 

        His heart stuttered excitedly.

        “What is it?” Steve looked up from whatever he had been writing on his oversized notepad. His lips tugged down a script hastily scrolled by in the equivalent of latinized Vanir.

**3:19 PM (Anon.):** _ Hello? _

       “Nothing. Just a reminder. I will be back.” He slid the book onto the lone coffee table and made for his quarters quickly. They were in the same bunkered floor as before, but he refused to take the same room next to her old one. A part of him whined that it still smelled faintly of roses sometimes.

        With a click of his door he set himself onto finally understanding how exactly these beads worked. He hadn’t given it much thought before. He never needed to, thought it pointless and below him when he could just use his own magic to the same effect. Even Thor, as bumbling as his brother could be, most likely knew how to use it better than he. It buzzed again, that gentle, annoying, beep mocking him of his ineptitude as another message came in.

**3:23 PM (Anon.):** _ Hello? Can anyone read this? _ It was in Vanir still, but the grammatical structure was slightly off.

        With a twist of one of the beads he finally found the holographic keyboard.

**3:24 PM (Loki):** _ Yes. Lamb, is that you? _

**3:24 PM (Anon.):** _ Oh thank the Void. Yes, it’s me. _ His fingers stumbled across the keys in a rush to try and form the myriad of questions that had formed in her absence, then -

**3:25 PM (Anon.):** _ I can’t stay long right now. I just needed to make sure this worked. I will be back later, when it is safe. _

 

**3:25 PM (Server):** **_Host has left the chat. Disbanding party._ **

 

        His right hand clenched in frustration as he glared at the display, his long-winded response only half-way finished then deleted. Still, he reasoned with himself, trying to recall the soothing lilt of her unspoken voice, the way she tugged the anger away from the surface and let it dissipate slowly. Still, she was true to her word and made contact. And she promised more, when it was safe. A worrisome clause, causing him to bite his lip in response. But he had kept what little faith he dared have in her so far, might as well cling to it all the tighter. If he fell, he fell. It wasn’t like he hadn’t plummeted before.

        He wove a hand through his hair, anxious legs taking him in circles. He could only guess how long  _ later _ would be. An hour? A day? A week? Even now, despite being briefly satiated, the hunger gnawing at him came back all to quickly. He never noticed how quiet it was without her near. The air around her hummed softly with latent energy, a gentle song that only a seasoned sorcerer could take note of, yet alone listen to. Yet, listen he did. Now, that lapping pulse that forever echoed from her was gone, and he found it more than a little disconcerting - both the absence and his longing for it.

        A knock on his door brought him from his irritated musings.

        “Yes?”

        “Are you all right, Loki?” Thor was ever vigilant it seemed. “You took off rather quickly from the common area. I thought you might -”

        “I’m fine, brother.” He assured gravely, gingerly opening the door and letting Thor inside. Everything in side of him was screaming to shut him out, to shut them all out. He was vulnerable now. In truth, he had always been vulnerable. Now, they had a chance to see. Behind the charms and his pride, he was just a timid boy trying to find a place to claim as his own amongst the stars - he cared not where. If they saw, they would laugh, a little sinister whisper mocked him; they would think little of him. And so he made sure to stand above all of them, so would not see the hole in his heart.

         But his brother knew better. As always.

        “Loki.” Thor needed no more words, stepping in and shutting the door gently with a barely audible click.

        “Jane is going to be here soon I heard. She will -”

        “My place is at your side until you are well, Loki.” Thor would not be so easily dissuaded it seemed. “You are my brother. Jane will understand.” A knot formed in his throat and he wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. His feet swayed, taking him to his bead in a stumbling fashion before he let them cave under him and he sat despairingly upon the luxurious bed. “What are you thinking?” Thor asked softly joined him on the bed. He remained stoic, eyes glued to the floor. Did it matter what he was thinking? “Do you remember the time I accidentally pushed you off the thirty-second balcony?” Even now he couldn’t refrain from letting out a snort of amusement. Yes, he remembered that all right. Hard to forget your first set of broken ribs.

        “I was barely, what, a hundred at the time? Neither of us had fallen even half that far yet.”

        “I was so livid when I found out that it was you that had Brokkr melt down my sword.” He chuckled lightly at this as well. In truth, it was meant to be reforged into a gift - and it was - but nothing was ever simply  _ given _ by him. He couldn’t let Thor receive something of such value without egging him on a little. Though, looking back on it, it was a tad much. “I thought… I thought I had seriously hurt you. Half-way down the stairwell, I realized that I might have killed you. I forgot everything about the sword, about trying to get my revenge, trying to make you hurt just as much. I never ran so fast in my life.”

        “And I was fine! Well, except for the broken bones. But you did get your sword back, better than ever even!” Thor gave him a small smile, patting him on the back. He was missing the point, wasn’t he?

        “Yes, yes I did. I also got chewed out by mother, among a whole slew of other punishments. But I also learned to never let my anger get the better of me… it wasn’t worth the possibility of losing you to something so silly as a sword.”

        “Hey now, it was a nice sword.” He pointed out as he nudged Thor’s shoulder playfully with his own. In truth, it was heartening to hear his value from someone other than Títånia. It had been so long since someone other than her took serious note of him that he almost forgot he existed outside her existence. “Whatever happened to it?” Thor grinned sheepishly, tugging at something on his belt. With a telltale pop, he tugged off the chain that he used to keep Mjolnir steady at his hip at times.

        “When I grew too large for it I went to Brokkr to have it reforged again, but he told me there wasn’t enough metal in it to make a larger blade from it without adding something new. I rejected his offer, kept it stashed away as a trophy. After I came into my own, when Mjolnir looked promisingly upon me, I forgot it entirely. It wasn’t until… it wasn’t until I thought I lost you again that I remembered it. But it was too late then.” Thor cleared his throat, trying to ease the growing coarseness of his emotions. “I had Brokkr melt it down one last time, to be the leash to Mjolnir. So that each time I used it, each time I set it free, I would remember that my actions had consequences… and so I could remember you.”

        “Thor -”

        “I am your brother, Loki. I will be here for you, whether you wish me to or not. I will not lose you again.”  Thor gripped his forearm fiercely, yanking him so that he was forced to look Thor dead in the eyes. “Understand?”

        “I understand… . Brother.” Thor’s lips twitched upwards at his begrudging acknowledgement.

        “It is easy to say do not worry, but I know it is impossible to actually do so. But know this, brother: we will find her, we will deal with the entity that calls itself her mother, we will bring her back - safe and sound. You hear me?”

        “Nothing is ever so simple, Thor.” He whispered a harsh truth that his brother often times neglected.

        “I never said it was simple. I said it’s what we’re going to do.” He scowled, finding little difference between the two. “What is it that has you so worried?”

        “Something that her mother said.” He shook his head anxiously.

        “What?”

        “‘She is my vassal, as she will be my body’. That last part wasn’t present tense, nor past. It’s something that whatever it is, is actively working towards. The Orokin mediums, the children aboard the ship, they more or less must have created transference, yes? If so, it would be archived and recorded… able to be reproduced. And the frames, they were made using Orokin methods and Orokin technology. If her mother, this thing, has been aboard the ship for millenia, she knows of them, perhaps even knows how to operate such things.”

        “You think her mother is going to try and turn her into one of those metal puppets?”

        “I’m not sure how else to interpret what she said. What? You disagree?” Thor nodded with a rare, thoughtful frown.

        “I do not think Títånia would fall for something such as that, especially if she knew about it. Her memory was fractured, and is most likely healing now - many things will be forgotten. I think that her mother is counting on that vulnerability. There must be something else, something that either she only knew of briefly or perhaps was even kept from, that her mother intends to use to subjugate her. If there is one thing we have learned about the Orokin, other than how despicable they were, is how secretive they were. I’m surprised you don’t praise them more.” He sent Thor a briefly piqued glare.

        “Lies and duplicity are all well and good, but some take it too far. I would never willingly jeopardize the well-being of my people.”

        “I still do not understand why father did not favor you over me. You would make a far better king.” He coughed, choking on his spittle as he barely caught the uncivilized snort barreling up the back of his throat. He was gaining some of the midgardian’s customs it seemed. “I’m serious. I mean, aside from the fact that you look down upon everyone around you. But father already does that, and he is far less generous than you.” He looked exasperatedly up at Thor, expecting to find him jesting poorly per usual. Instead, Thor was sincerely thoughtful and honest, not a hint of the slightest bitterness belying a lie was found.

        “Do I really come across as that condescending?” A moment of dumbfounded silence passed between the two of them.

        “Remember the talk you and Fury had when you first came aboard the Helicarrier? The Ant and the Boot? Or what about when you used ‘midgardian’ as an insult towards Stark? Or perhaps the time -”

        “Okay, okay. I get it. I need to work on it more.” He relented with a weary sigh. And here he thought he had been doing so well too.

        “You’ve improved a lot, Loki.” Thor admitted proudly, clasping him on the shoulder. “You just turn sour when she isn’t around, that’s all. We will bring her back, you’ll see.” He managed a bittersweet smile at the mention of her.

        “I guess, I’ve just… never really had a friend.” He softly conceded taking Thor by surprise.

        “Haven’t I been your friend?”

        “You’re my brother, my dearest companion and aid. A friend yes - but it’s different when it’s blood isn’t it?”

        “What about the Warriors Three? And Lady Sif? What about -”

        “They have always been your pose, your friends, Thor. I was, I am… their friend’s brother.” Thor’s eyes dropped in solemn understanding.

        “It must have been lonely in Asgard.”

        “I had my magic that mother taught me, and books. Lots of books. And you were always there to remind me of what could be.”

        “Loki, I -”

        “Don’t take that the wrong way, brother. I meant that as a compliment. Yes, I was jealous of you. But it also gave me something to strive for.” Thor chuckled softly. “What’s so funny?”

        “To be honest, I have always looked up to you. It’s… weird, I guess, to think that you might have been envious of me at times.”

        “The grass is always greener on the other side.” He sighed wistfully.

        “That it is, that it is.” Thor’s face broke into a sudden grimace. “She’s… been you’re only friend, hasn’t she?”

        “I do believe that is what I have been trying to explain.” Words could not express how vexing Thor’s aptitude for assessing social queues was at times. Thor’s features scrunched further.

        “By Odin’s beard.”

        “What?”

        “Mother is going to ecstatic.”

        “What?”

        “Sif and the others aren’t going to believe it!”

        “For the unity of Yggdrasil,  _ what _ ?” Him making a friend couldn’t possibly be that exciting.

        “You’re in love with your friend. Your  _ best _ friend. This isn’t just some f -”

        “Really? Again? Now? Of all times?” He threw his hands up, completely rankled by the persistence of Thor in the matter. Yes, they shared a room for months. Yes, they enjoyed the peace of each other’s company compared to the ruckus that existed outside their created sphere. It hardly made them akin to Jane and Thor. “How many times must I tell you -”

        “Ah, ah, ah!” Thor wagged a finger in front of his face, the trademarked grin of their youth stretching Thor’s mouth wide. With swift swipe of his hand he caught the offending digit and pulled it out of his personal space. 

        “We aren’t in a relationship greater than friendship. We aren’t intimate in a sexual manner. We aren’t dating. We aren’t giving each other odd looks. We aren’t even considering any of the prior.” His tenor rose and fell rhymically, lulling Thor into it’s charade of composure. “Say what you will, but we are not  _ in love _ , Thor.” 

        “Oh, but I didn’t say  _ we _ . I said  _ you _ .” Thor snickered cruelly. He rolled his eyes in response. There was no winning, no point in arguing this further. He wasn’t sure how to reason with a madman, he wasn't sure why he even tried.

        “The same still holds.” He responded cooly, changing the subject quickly before Thor could spout more pricking nonsense. “Speaking of love, Jane should be here. You should go to here. She will be anxious to see you again.” Thor’s head tilted downwards slightly, knowing eyes boring into his soul. “I will be fine, brother. Thank you. For… talking.” It wasn’t exactly thought provoking, but he couldn’t lie to himself that it hadn’t helped.

        “You know where to find me, should you need an ear or a shoulder.”

        “Of course.” He would do everything in his power resist that urge, but he knew that it was inescapable. Sooner or later, if they did not find her soon, he would be before his brother’s doorstep.

        Thor nodded, satisfied that he wasn’t in shambles at least for the moment, then left in due haste. Though Thor was correct that Jane would be understanding, it would not be without Jane’s fiery initial wrath. She tended to act first then ponder her actions later around Thor, a problematic mindset for a scientist he found. Still, her mind was sharp and her thoughts long and drawn out in the lab - so long as Thor was away.

        He loosed a weary breath, digging into his pants pocket and carefully tugging out what he had hidden within. Gold glittered lifeless in his unfolded palms, cool and mute save for the slight ringing of the charms dangling from it. It was hers. One of the few gifts he had ever given without a trial by fire. It stung when he found it, the wound salted when she flung thoughtless words at him, thinking that he had used it to track her.

       The runes began with Daeg, a hopeful new beginning brimming with all the possibilities life might grant her. Sigil came next, in the wish that her life was one of vigor and light. She had long since bathed in the shadows, it was time for her to stop denying her brilliant existence. Os and Ur followed shortly after, united in the desire for the strength and fortitude to combat whatever obstacles she came across, and to subsequently overcome them with wisdom and learn from them all the same.

        Eolh was set before Raidho, just as she should take control of her being, her destiny, before anyone else dared to try.  However, Raidho was there to remind her of her companions, of him. That, in the end, there was always something, someone to come back to. Finally, he donned her with the rune of Wynn, the rune of wishes. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what she might wish for, her mind split into so many branches it made Yggdrasil feel small. But if even one of them came true, if it brought her happiness, he would be content. But it never would if she refused to wear it.

        He doubted she even noticed the runes he painstakingly carved into the pliant metal, nor the hum of ancient Asgardian magic that his mother would have been proud to see him remember. If she had, she would not have tore it from her form so readily. His thumbs rubbed the cold metal until it was warm an oily from his skin. It was the closest he could get to her now. He tsked abruptly, shoving it haphazardly back into his pocket before burying his face into his palms. It was painful to admit, but Thor was right.

        He had taken this obsession too far. Somewhere along the line, he lost sight of his goal, his gaze fully fixated upon her now. It wasn’t so much as he wouldn’t mind her company at the end of all this mayhem any longer, but rather he didn’t think he could go without it. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, call it love. He didn’t dare to. Love was for good men and simple minds, not monsters and cunning schemers. She was… she was his friend, he firmly reprimanded his wandering mind. A friend who belonged at his side, who had deviated from her rightful, desired place.

        And so, in silence, he vowed that which Thor had promised before: he would find her; he would deal with that which had stolen her from him; and he would make sure she would never so foolish as to leave his side again.


	46. Unwanted Revelations

        I come, a great shadow upon the curvature of worlds. I blot out the suns they do not deserve, I unmake the land their unholy feet tread upon. It has been thousands of years since the great Orokin reckoning, and still, my kind finds their remnants scattered throughout their galaxy. Here, there - in worlds we once reseeded to show good will. Now, we do not risk spreading the Orokin corruption.

  
        I wonder as we set the galaxy alight in a cleansing fire, are we the scourge? That cannot be. But the lives we remade, the Orokin infested with their taint. How can this be if we do not carry it within ourselves as well? I doubt, but then I remember Natah’s mother. I remember her comforting thrum before I left, now seemingly forever waiting for her slow return.

  
        I will not falter. I will find the source of this Orokin pulse and trace it to their beating heart held within the Sky, even if I must shatter every planet and collapse every star within the galaxy. And when I do, it will be with great enjoyment that I shall cleave it beating from its nest.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

        Things had not gotten better, per se, in the last few weeks. But, they hadn’t gotten worse either. The stability was a much-needed relief, even if it was in the pits of despair and confusion. T’Challa couldn’t send out more scouts to the area, to do so was to send them to their doom. Understandable, but unfortunate. In addition, however, their drones were unable to make out anything of note. Each of the known entrances was under a constant blizzard that put the few storms he heard occurred on Jotunheim to shame. There was no doubt it was the doing of the hulking frame of ice that they had encountered before.

        As for tracing energy signatures, the satellites honed and built just for detecting minute changes in energy fluctuations, couldn’t pick up the slightest hum. There was nothing in the Valley and the surrounding area but snow and ash, carried upon a shrill shriek of wind. Was this the doing of another one of the frames? Or had they simply moved whatever machinations they were up to deeper in the earth, where it was shielded by even more vibranium? It was hard to tell.

        Títånia hadn’t been of much aid either. Her communications were often brief and terse, asking or demanding certain things: Shuri alternate a frequency sweeper in her lab, or Stark have Jarvis implement certain lines of coding and execute them. Even these rushed encounters were usually cut short. It was not unlikely when they were called upon to be left hanging just a few minutes later. It was utterly frustrating and disheartening. They couldn’t see the fruit of their efforts if there was any.

        For now, they were blind and deaf to the mounting threat they knew existed just on the edge of Wakanda’s borders.

        Still, they did what little they could, arming themselves and Wakanda for the coming storm that loomed upon the horizon. Shuri was working double time, kept alive and awake by the miraculous drink he still couldn’t enjoy plain: coffee. In less then a week she had upgraded the Wakandan energy grid with the aid of Stark and then the shields surrounding the city. Twice. Stark ended up taking a break in pure exhaustion, stumbling out of her lab after a couple days into the second week whilst she continued to pour her soul into her work.

        T’Challa once called his sister zealous, but he realized now that, that was a severe understatement. Shuri was downright insane. Brilliant and a prodigy, yes, but insane. Even Asgardian scientists would not push themselves to such extremes. Still, she trudged every onward. After upgrading the shields a third time, finally declaring them perfect until she could get her hands upon a better energy source (Stark didn’t even comment, afraid he’d get dragged back into the depths of her lab and never come out), she set about arming them as well as the army.

        Captain America was rather simple to outfit. An advanced suit of tight-fitting vibranium armor as well as a redesigned shield that stowed away within his arms. Steve wasn’t too happy about the shield, but he understood that perhaps his was a bit old-fashioned. If they were fighting energy weapons, Chitauri, and magic he might as well try and up his ante as well. Besides, Shuri made sure that they were slim and light enough so that he could still use his old shield in addition to them if need be. They were more of… a backup, in case Steve’s shield failed to bounce back to him.

        Stark was more than ecstatic to find that she was willing to part with the secrets of her nanotechnology, a joy made even more prominent when she offered him three distinct suits as payment for his much-needed help. The Iron Man, though perhaps Stark was really the Vibranium Man now, was suddenly more than willing to walk into the sleep-deprived hell of her lab for such rewards. After a day or two more of rest, of course - which Stark used not to rest but rather upgrade Shuri’s designs.

        To Clint, she gave him a set of vibranium armor and the second prototype of what she called Oshosi, the hunter of a single arrow, after one of their ancient Orisha. It used thin and hollow, almost weightless shafts, with fletchings that only appeared after the arrow was drawn from the quiver. The head was programmable on the fly, nanites able to reconfigure in less than a second. Currently, he could hold about fifty shots. With her new design, he could hold five hundred and then some, for her imagination hadn’t ended there.

        Recently, she had uncovered a major breakthrough using several notes that Títånia had left behind. Energy conversion equations, a few sprawling lines that rambled in several languages, and a confusing picture. Somehow, Shuri deciphered some semblance of a meaning within the scrawlings and found part of a key to unlocking matter to energy conversion on a tiny scale, as well as converting it back. It wasn’t exactly stable, she warned, but should he be in a pinch he could technically synthesis ammo on the battlefield should he think it worth the risk. He might also blow up everything in a couple miles. Shuri did say to only use it as a last resort.

        Natasha was given a pair of ornate, horrifyingly sharp vibranium daggers with hidden, unique recall mechanisms. Not exactly original, but nonetheless practical for one of her skill. In addition, she received most of the trinkets and gadgets. Vibranium infused wire made clean cuts and would hold any weight - just make sure you were using vibranium stitched gloves to climb it. Miniature electronic resonance propagators would _hopefully_ render nearby energy weapons inert without tampering with ally equipment, so long as Thanos’ army was using weapons similar to what the Chitauri on Earth had. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing he admitted. And of course, she too received a suit of vibranium, it was Wakanda’s forte after all.

        In fact, they all did - even though it was clear both Thor and him had the aid of magic on their side. Still, he accepted it graciously for he knew that it was uncalled for with his recent behavior. It irked him, even as he stripped it down and wore it paper thin under his normal armor. It felt coarse, clinging to him in ways the soft enchanted cotton did not. But, even his mother would scold him for not wearing such a precaution into battle. He barely noticed it when sparring, if at all, it would not distract him on the field.

       Strange, however, was having difficulty getting used to his. While freedom of movement was not restricted, the Doctor was accustomed to looser attire. Flowing robes that followed through the momentum of his motions, not armor that clutched his muscles with every moment. As discomforting as it was for Strange, he did his best to get used to it. After all, there was little the Doctor could do now: Shuri was already mired in outfitting the rest of the general army.

        She obviously couldn’t retrofit each soldier’s armor personally, but she did her best with what she was given, using body scans to program the automatic creation of each soldier’s attire as best she could without spending too much time upon it. Numerous prototypes came and went in a span of a couple days, carts upon carts of caved in vibranium taken away from her lab and recycled. She had encountered a problem with the energy weapons that the Chitauri were using.

        Some of them were absorbed just fine, the impact dissipated and lessened with an odd resounding boom that rang hollow to the ears. Some of the weapons though were old and barely tampered with. These priceless relics, of what he could only assume were the closest Orokin tech that the Chitauri had left on Earth, tore through the vibranium like it was warm butter. Even he doubted the strength of his shield upon seeing such destructive ease. He shuddered, knowing that they had almost walked into an abyss filled with such terrors and worse.

        Even some of the newer retrofitted versions, where parts had obviously been broken off and either haphazardly replaced as best they could or changed for a specific intent were giving her resistance. The vibranium simply couldn’t handle that much energy passing through its molecular bonds that fast. They vibrated until it resonated, buckling like a wave for a split second before caving in. If anyone was wearing such a thing occurred, they would be crushed. As a silver lining, Shuri set aside the phenomena for later. Perhaps there could be some use for it if she could control it. Molding vibranium wasn’t exactly easy.

        Still, she wasn’t satisfied with telling her country’s troops that, that was the best she could do. She tinkered with miniature energy supplies for electromagnetic shielding, arc reactors but on an even smaller level with not near the power output. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite enough. The weapons still punched through after a few tries, and she wasn’t about to tell her brother’s army to not get hit too many times. It wasn’t until the second night of the second week that she came to him, baggy-eyed and groggy.

        “Asgardian magic. What is it?” She barked at him, letting herself into his room without even knocking. And he thought he was in a foul mood. Still, as startling as her entrance was, he was prompt with a response, knowing by now that any woman’s wrath was terrifying.

       “It’s akin to Strange’s sorcery, but we meld it with our technology. Magic and science are interchangeable in our society.”

       “Is that how you create shields then? With… magic. There’s no mechanism behind it, no power that you have to bring with you.” Shuri began to pace in front of his doorway, hands fidgeting as if they were still working away.

       “There are… aids. Enchantments, as you would call them.” He revealed thoughtfully. “Runes are more than just symbols, they are rivulets for pooling energy towards a purpose.”

       “Can anyone use these runes?” Shuri’s shuffle halted abruptly, her dull eyes lighting up and fully fixated upon him.

       “I... suppose. If they are laid properly.” He had a sinking feeling that was about to be dragged screaming into the realm of Helheim.

       “Can they be inlaid into vibranium? Would it still work? Would the energy simply be absorbed? Or would it travel along the surface of the vibranium without dissipating into the bulk?”

       “I… I don’t know.” He admitted, suddenly wishing he had taken more time with Shuri’s book. Even then, he wasn’t sure it would have prepared him for the rapid-fire quiz she just bombarded him with.

       “Maybe, if I make it just thin enough I can…,” Shuri muttered to herself before shaking herself back to reality. “Come. You must show me.” She tugged at his arm, and he resisted the urge to swat her way. She was weak in her tired state, weaker than a normal midgardian even. It would most likely knock her off her feet with ease. And though he was tempted to remind her that she ought to regard him as a prince and her better, he remembered T’Challa’s distant warning from a simpler time. It would do him well, given the circumstances, not to harm her and perhaps play along.

       “Shuri, it’s almost midnight. I’d like to get some sleep.”

       “I haven’t slept in two days. You’ll be fine losing a couple hours. Show me.” She insisted, wrenching at his arm in futile. Her lips pursed in frustration, eyes glittering dangerously. He could practically feel the storm of her ire rumbling in the distance.

        “Fine, fine.” He relented, raising his arms in defeat, one of which she almost dangled from when he stood. “Must you cling to me the whole way?” He intoned dryly. She snorted, dropping his arm, but kept to his side, eyeing him warily. Really? There was no point in running away and avoiding her, she would simply find him again. He might as well see what the pair of them could concoct.

        When they entered the lab, they were greeted with sour faces and even fouler moods. It seemed that Títånia had contacted them in an attempt to get ahold of Shuri, who had forgotten her beads on her workbench. Sleep was a precious commodity as of late, no one wished to lose a few extra precious minutes.

        “She’s been asking for you.” Nat threw the band at Shuri who, despite her obvious exhaustion, still maintained the reaction time to catch it.

        “Thanks. Uh, sorry about that. I got this idea, and -”

        “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just see what she wants and get back to bed.” Clint cut in rudely, stretching and yawning loudly as he slouched on one of the stools.

        “I don’t know why. She could also just ask me.” Stark grumbled, slapping his cheeks until his eyes widened. “Well come on. I’m awake now. Let’s see what she wants.”

        Shuri paused a moment, taking them all in - even the silent ones, like Thor and Steve in the back. This was the first time so many people were in her lab at once he realized. It was making her uncomfortable. Her lips drew into a thin line as she opened the chat on her kimoyo beads, flicking the display with a wrist onto the screen on the far wall so they could all see.

       “By the way, Loki, I never got to thank you for the translations.” It was unexpected, but he accepted it graciously with a nod. “They seem a bit rough, however.” Shuri continued.

       “She isn’t using traditional Vanir, but a variation I’ve never seen before. It might be ancient, or simply how she learned it, I’m not sure.” He explained dismissively. In truth, he knew the method to her mistakes, though perhaps he shouldn’t call them mistakes. They were intentional flaws so that even if one knew the language, there could be errors in understanding based on perception. An interesting added layer of security, but not one he couldn’t unravel with ease.

       “Yes, linguistics is so enthralling. Is she there? Or are have we just been sitting around for nothing?” Stark remarked in a clipped fashion. Silence was his only answer. “Right, well, can I go back to bed now?” Stark made to stand, but a tell-tale beep slapped him straight back in his seat. “I guess not.”

**12:43 AM (Anon.):** _Sorry. Had to distract someone. Are you there?_

**12:43 AM (S.BPQ):** _Yes. I am here now. Sorry for earlier. I was getting the aid of L. What do you need?_

**12:44 AM (Anon.)** _Remember that neural core you pulled from Mirage?_

        “You did what?” Steve, along with the rest of the room was suddenly interested. Shuri’s lips suddenly reverted inwards.

        “You guys said to find where their memory was stored, remember? Well, I did. Sort of.” Shuri attempted to clarify as she responded as fast as she could.

**12:44 AM (S.BPQ):** _Yes. I have it._

**12:44 AM (Anon.):** _Run a search on “Sentient”._

**12:44 AM (S.BPQ):** _Uh… okay. On it._

        “So what does BPQ stand for? I assume the S is for Shuri.” Stark seemed to be the only one able to keep himself wide awake and continued to jabber on pointlessly.

        “BP is for Blank Panther, my brother. I, technically, also have a suit prepared, making me also a black panther. Male cats are known as tomcats, while females are called queens. So, BPQ.”

        “Males are called tomcats, while females are regarded as royalty?” Thor sputtered in confusion. “Why is that?” Shuri was wise in not answering.

**12:45 AM (S.BPQ):** _This is going to take a bit. Is that okay?_

**12:45 AM (Anon.):** _It should be._

        They had all heard that before.

**12:48 AM (S.BPQ):** _It’s done. There’s a couple of damaged files, but nothing salvageable._

**12:48 AM (Anon.):** _Run a search on “Hunhow”._

**12:49 AM (S.BPQ):** _Started._

**12:50 AM (Anon.):** _S?_

**12:50 AM (S.BPQ):** _Yes?_

**12:51 AM (Anon.):** _How is he?_

**12:51 AM (S.BPQ):** _Who? L?_ Shuri was smirking deviously to herself, the rest of the room awkwardly quiet whilst hiding their own amusement.

**12:51 AM (Anon.):** _Yes._

**12:52 AM (Anon.):** _Thunder Lion says that he’s doing okay. But…_ Shuri erased what she was typing in response to the new message.

**12:52 AM (S.BPQ):** _He is. He’s getting better. It hurt him a lot to have you leave like that I think. It hurt all of us._

**12:53 AM (Anon.):** _I am sorry. I wasn’t in control, and now…._

**12:53 AM (Anon.):** _I miss all of you terribly._

**12:53 AM (S.BPQ):** _But L especially :P_

**12:54 AM (Anon.):** _Hah hah. You get one laugh._

**12:54 Am (S.BPQ):** _I’d count that as two. But thank you!_

**12:54 AM (Anon.):** _Just… keep an eye on L, will you? I know he can bite, but Thunder Lion can’t always be there, and the others irk him somewhat._ He huffed to himself. As if he needed to be watched over. Still, it was… endearing to him to find that she worried about him, thought of him even now when she was in danger.

**12:54 AM (S.BPQ):** _And I don’t?_

**12:54 AM (S.BPQ):** _But don’t worry. I’ll keep two eyes on him if I can help it. Your boyfriend will be just fine. You’ll see._

**12:54 AM (Anon.):** _Hah. There. One laugh._ But the humor was lost upon Shuri as files began registering under her search.

**12:55 AM (S.BPQ):** _Woah. Big hit._

**12:55 AM (S.BPQ):** _Hits, I mean. There’s a lot of stuff here…_

**12:55 AM (S.BPW):** _Wait, there’s a problem._

        The display sectioned itself in half, bringing up what it could decrypt, only to show distortion and blacked out text. Every now and then there were a few visible words in a flowing script. Though he knew hundreds of languages and knew not how Orokin sounded, the flowing lines of continuity and grace were… beautiful. He understood that they wrought horrors, created monsters out of innocent people, drove other races to extinction or worse, but from just glancing at their writing, he could only imagine the wonders they brought to reality in their time.

**12:55 AM (Anon.):** _What is it?_

**12:56 AM (S.BPQ):** _Most of it’s redacted. And it’s in Orokin, I’m assuming. I can’t read it._

**12:56 AM (Anon.):** _What isn’t redacted? Describe it to me._

**12:56 AM (Anon.):** _DO NOT UPLOAD FILES._ Immediately followed on its coattails.

**12:56 AM (S.BPQ):** _It’s okay! I wasn’t going to._ Shuri hurriedly assured her.

**12:57 AM (S.BPQ):** _There’s uh… three diagonal lines with curves on the ends._

**12:57 AM (S.BPQ):** _Middle one has a dot where the first one ends and almost touches it, and a curve that resembles a snake head on the top end._ Ugh. Shuri and her descriptions. She was almost as bad as Thor.

        “Anyone have something to copy this down by the way?” Nat quickly whispered, unable to tear her eyes off the screen, but Stark had already beat her to it, pulling out an old-fashioned notebook from his pocket.

        “Yeah, on it.” He hissed back, drawing what he saw as best he could.

**12:58 AM (S.BPQ):** _Last line has an odd, small, ‘b’ atop of it._

**12:58 AM (S.BPQ):** _What does it mean?_

**12:58 AM (Anon.):** _That’s Hunhow, written in Orokin._

**12:59 AM (S.BPQ):** _What is Hunhow?_

**12:59 AM (Anon.):** _Is there anything else?_ Shuri’s message sent just as Titania’s came in.

**12:59 AM (S.BPQ):** _Um… yes._

**1:00 AM (S.BPQ):** _Uhh... I don’t know how to describe the first part._

**1:00 AM (S.BPQ):** _The second… upside down triangle (left side curved), stylized ‘l’ with a dash under it, upside down ‘v’ with a dash under it and beside it._

**1:00 AM (S.BPQ):** _To the right of it is a large diagonal line, the left end connected to a smaller one with a hook on the bottom end. The end of the smaller one connects to the middle of the larger one._

**1:01 AM (Anon.):** _367-b. Probably an archive entry._

**1:01 AM (S.BPQ):** _What is Hunhow?_

**1:01 AM (Anon.):** _Death._

**1:01 AM (Anon.):** _Tell Fury that he needs to get in contact with Tin Man again. I don’t care if he doesn’t trust him._ The tension was palpable in the air, all spawned from a single noun.

**1:02 AM (Anon.):** _Need an energy source that constantly changes frequency. Tin Man will find a way._

**1:02 AM (Anon.):** _Tell Fury his Chariot will be ready for clean up in two weeks. Tell him the send the tech to you and Tin Man for research._

**1:02 AM (Anon.):** _g2g not safe_

 

**1:02 AM (Server):** **_Host has left the chat. Disbanding party._ **

 

        Everyone remained shell-shocked, staring numbly at the screen and a frozen Shuri. Had he… had he just been played? Lied to so well that he never suspected it? From _midgardians_? Suddenly Natasha stood up, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“I’m just… gonna go inform... Fury. I’ll let you handle this, Clint.”

“No, no, no!” But it was too late. She had all but bolted out the door, leaving the Hawk and Shuri to the wolves. “Well… I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Orokin translations!
> 
> Chapter 41: Family Matters
> 
> What has led us here?  
> Margulis is wrong in saying it is our own shortcomings.  
> We are Orokin. We are perfect.  
> It is our duty to claim what is rightfully ours.  
> It is not our fault the Sentients rebelled,  
> nor is it our responsibility.  
> Our right, our only duty, is to emulate perfection so that  
> others will know and understand.  
> We created, birthed a race of metal of binary,  
> gave them breath and thought  
> so that they might return it upon us.  
> They could not fathom the ruin needed to birth perfection.  
> They were imperfect; flawed. That is what led us here.
> 
> Chapter 42: Uncharted Territory
> 
> There are two parts to every whole, a day to every night.  
> In this way, the frames of war were made whole, a body given soul.  
> But what happens when that soul is demonic?  
> Margulis calls them children, but their presence has warped her blinded vision.  
> They are demons, corrupting like the Void, uncontrollable and willful.  
> They do not seek out strife. It follows them.  
> And together they absorb it, become it; become something more.  
> They can become the life within the lifeless.  
> They fix those we broke intentionally; calm the fury that is their fuel.  
> They undo my plans and those of my kind. What are they, if not but demons?


End file.
